Thursday, January 26, 2012

Thankful Thursday: Dirty Dishes

I am joining other blogs I enjoy, like The Marathon Mom, in posting something I am thankful for on Thursdays.

Today, I am thankful for dirty dishes!


There are quite a few dirty dishes in the sink right now. I have been having too much fun playing with my 16 month old to care. I read this quote years ago (and I cannot remember where), recited it often to my siblings and our children will hear it, too:

"Be glad for dirty dishes
they have a story to tell
while other kids go hungry
we're eating rather well."

Thursday, January 19, 2012

Still Around

It is 10:59PM as I begin this post.

Joel and Jeremiah are in bed. Joshua is strapped snugly to my chest in the Moby wrap (still LOVE this giant piece of fabric) and is *finally* asleep. He is such a good baby- sleeps at night and is awake during the day. He barely cries and is starting to show more personality. ::Ahem:: More on him in another post.

And me? I am doing laundry and thinking about blogs.

I really should be in bed sleeping soundly like the rest of my little family, but for now I am soaking up the quiet stillness in my home. I need time to think and it seems that these days I get very little.

Two boys. I am the mother of two boys.

I cannot believe how quickly time has passed- from my 10th birthday disaster to learning to drive, working two great jobs, marrying my best friend and now being the mother of these two precious boys.

And all too soon they will be grown. They will be 10. 16. 21. 25. 28.

I am reading through the Bible and just finished Judges (Funny, Jeremiah got his first haircut the day I read about Samson. Ha.), Ruth and have started 1 Samuel. Oh, to raise a son like Boaz. Oh, to be a mother like Hannah with a son like Samuel. I do not want to raise sons like Samson. Or how about Eli's sons? 1 Samuel 2:12 says, "Now the sons of Eli were worthless men. They did not know the Lord." May that never be said of my sons!

Amidst the dishes, diapers, laundry and all the other daily chores I never, ever, ever, ever (EVER) want to forget that I am raising adults. Boys turn into men. And I want them to be men. I do not want them to stay boys (it seems many mothers do and many men stay boys).

There are times when the books strewn on the floor, the overflowing diaper pail and the constant snack time wear on me. Yet, at the same time I know I will miss it one day when the pitter patter of tiny feet is no longer in my home. These are days to cherish as I pour into these little souls the time it takes to make a little boy into a man.

And now that I am crying... I will iron the last shirt and go to bed.