In three years…
In 3 years he’ll be 13, mama…
My seven-year-old proclaims, eyes wide.
those will be the hardest years of your life, you know…
when we are teenagers.
My head snaps upright, as if released from a tight spring.
I laugh, looking at those huge, innocent eyes. Thinking…
harder than this?!
This sleepless blur of a decade, consumed with dirty diapers, hungry stomachs, endless chatter, excessive whining, midnight whimpers, instant destruction of a clean room, lost sippy cups, found sippy cups, tragically empty sippy cups (always in the car… in traffic).
This decade of mom boot camp. What could be harder than this?
The wide eyes searching my face… after this statement of fact… known by all mankind.
the teen years
I shudder. Five teenagers at the same time… and one pre-teen. My head drops.
maybe I could just bury it in the sand…
This observation from my little one just before a conversation with another mom.
it’s heavy when they get older… this time, when they are young, is just so physical… but as they get older… it’s more emotional… heavier
Her gaze wanders to a far away place… a place where guilt and fear and motherhood meet. A place we enter with anticipation – remembering all the stories of those who have traveled there before us. This place known to us only by memory. Our own memories of this teen place. Mine ~ a time between the carefree 1970’s childhood I long to recreate (in this not 1970’s world), and the 1990’s, when I flew into this wide open world. Flew from the nest of my own parents.
Generation X and it’s big 1980’s hair, super cool synthesizer music, members only jackets, and leggings (oh, those are back…). I was a good kid. At least I think I was. Like the others, I remember… it was all about me. My parents had a clue… kind of.
will they know? will they remember that I have a clue?
This coming decade of nights… as sleepless as the last… this time with heavier burdens. The physical exhaustion that begs me to sleep at night ~ this will give way ~ to the worries that won’t allow my tired eyes to close. I sigh.
How do I prepare for this? I have the “preparing for baby,” “preparing for toddler,” “preparing for kid” routine down. This rhythm has become part of my breath. The flow of child years is so familiar and sweet to me.
This is what will bring me to my knees… asking God to lead me, as I lead them.
Isn’t that where we belong?
I remember bringing him home… my first little baby boy.
We looked at each other and wondered. What do we do now?
The answer… the same… year after year…
Give thanks. Pray.
1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.