A friend of mine is sitting a couple of miles from where I sit right now. She’s a mother just like I am, and we work at the same place. But unfortunately she’s not sitting at home, enjoying a relaxing Saturday afternoon, like I’m able to. She and her husband are in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit, wondering what the future holds for their son. We are all hoping and praying for miracles, that their son gets returned to them safe and sound, and life carries on just as it had.
Their situation weighed heavily on my mind all day, and when I finally got home—I was at yoga training late yesterday—the boys were in bed. I crept in to their room to steal a few hugs and kisses in their slumber. Jameson was asleep—and sleeping hard. He looked so serious and concentrated in this sleep, as if he had never put so much effort into sleeping. I reached under his covers to wrap his warm little body into mine for just a moment, and he didn’t move a muscle.
Alex was still awake, only just slightly. He looked at me with sweet, sleepy eyes and a weak smile. I scratched his back, as I do most nights, just like he loves—and as usual he gave me instructions (a little to the left Mama, down a little, thanks Mama).
Why doesn’t it occur to me every day—every moment, even—what amazing miracles they are? Why do I sometimes forget how lucky we are to have the opportunity to parent such beautiful boys, perfect in their own way, just as they are?
It’s so easy to see the beauty and the miracles at nighttime, when they are peaceful and sweet and calm. It’s so much harder to see the miracle in tantrums and kicks. It’s so much harder to see the beauty in a boy who fusses when asked to help out or who needs to be dragged and pushed into doing his homework.
But you know what? I’m sure my friend would take any of those moments right now, and delight in them. So for now, I’m going to do my best to delight in every single bit of my time with these boys, the cute and cuddly just as much as the difficult and challenging.
And, I’m going to send some prayers in the direction of my friend and her family.
Their situation weighed heavily on my mind all day, and when I finally got home—I was at yoga training late yesterday—the boys were in bed. I crept in to their room to steal a few hugs and kisses in their slumber. Jameson was asleep—and sleeping hard. He looked so serious and concentrated in this sleep, as if he had never put so much effort into sleeping. I reached under his covers to wrap his warm little body into mine for just a moment, and he didn’t move a muscle.
Alex was still awake, only just slightly. He looked at me with sweet, sleepy eyes and a weak smile. I scratched his back, as I do most nights, just like he loves—and as usual he gave me instructions (a little to the left Mama, down a little, thanks Mama).
Why doesn’t it occur to me every day—every moment, even—what amazing miracles they are? Why do I sometimes forget how lucky we are to have the opportunity to parent such beautiful boys, perfect in their own way, just as they are?
It’s so easy to see the beauty and the miracles at nighttime, when they are peaceful and sweet and calm. It’s so much harder to see the miracle in tantrums and kicks. It’s so much harder to see the beauty in a boy who fusses when asked to help out or who needs to be dragged and pushed into doing his homework.
But you know what? I’m sure my friend would take any of those moments right now, and delight in them. So for now, I’m going to do my best to delight in every single bit of my time with these boys, the cute and cuddly just as much as the difficult and challenging.
And, I’m going to send some prayers in the direction of my friend and her family.
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