Today was one of those days we were holding our friends baby in church and I found myself thinking how adorable it would be to have another baby, my daydream even went so far as to smugly think twins would be super fun.
That was before we arrived home.
Our church goes from 9am-12pm, so from noon on we have ALL day to spend as a family, which is usually great. Usually. Arriving home the kids thought it the perfect time to be their silliest, loudest, most obnoxious, mischievous, messiest selves. They even went so far as to annoyingly act like children!!! It took me a few minutes to remember they still are, so luckily I didn't lose my cool and in an even tone directed Ethan in cleaning up a full glass of spilled chocolate milk, untangled his hair from the hand blender he genius-ly turned on in his 'long haired hippie' hair (as Glenn calls it) and explained why playing with a long stick while jumping from couch to couch, table to chair wasn't the smartest plan.
I tried to read in my bed, oh how silly of me, what was I thinking? They all joined me and Lila insisted she had to read my magazines as they are all extremely fond of Oprah's favorite things issues. (Good thing Emry plans on becoming a doctor as Oprah's doesn't like anything under $500) They then decided to have a party in my bed and went on to take apart the entire bed.
But you know what? It was okay. It was all okay. It was even fun to see my kids who spend so much time doing homework and chores, reading books and scriptures, paying attention at school and being reverent at church to just be silly and wacky, to let loose and act like 2 year olds.
It brought back so many great memories and reminded me to have patience because as immature as they were today, I know every day that passes is a small punch to my gut, a reminder that I can't stop or slow down their march away from me.
Cleaning and organizing, mopping and rearranging can be done tomorrow. I know the chocolate milk wasn't thoroughly cleaned up. I know church clothes are still on floors and dressers. I know the mess isn't cute in the least, it's gross, it makes me uneasy, I have to talk myself out of taking them to task.
Yes, they are big enough to clean up after themselves, but sometimes I can do it. I can toast them a bagel in the morning, pack their lunch, kiss them goodbye, watch them walk down the street their backpacks heavy on their shoulders and then I can turn around, crank up the soft rock and go to town cleaning.
The mess will still be there, it isn't going away. As for my thoughts about adding more kids to this mix?