You know, for someone who claims not to be a country music fan, I certainly reference country music quite a lot…
There is one country song I particularly detest. It is sung by a father, directed toward his adult daughter. One of her children is is crying, another is screaming, and she's dealing with a repairman. Just then the singer has the audacity to say [condescendingly, I might add], "You're gonna miss this."
Really? Really?? Might want to work on your timing there, grandpa. Better yet, why don't you hold the baby, entertain the toddler, deal with the repairman, and send mom out for a latte. Wait? What was that? You don't want to? Why ever not? I thought these moments were soooo precious that she would miss every single one!
I understand the intentions. Enjoy the kids while they're young, et cetera, et cetera. I get it. However, there are some moments no momma in her right mind would wish to relive. Like gripping your child in a full body lock while the doctor attempts to draw blood for testing. Like the 12 hour van ride with the toddler who has a sudden case of explosive diarrhea. Like mopping up the baby food on the floor, table, highchair, blinds, wall…again and again and again. Like the supermarket meltdowns. You get the picture. No one misses the tantrums, chaos, whining.
What we parents of very young children will miss are the mundane moments. The every day quiet moments that often slip by unnoticed. The brief sigh of relief between book bags dropping in the hall and dinner on the table. Somehow these moments are forgotten the second someone screams that So-and-so locked me out the bathroom! It's no fair! I have to pee, too!!
Last night I was able to catch one of those rare moments. Those quiet moments. Then that stupid country song came to mind, and I shook my head. For once the song rang true. I was going to miss this. I decided then and there that I would blog about our beautifully mundane evening. Because I don't want to forget...
I was standing at the stove, a baby balanced on my hip, as I stirred the vegetables. "Vroom! Vroom!" a two year old gripping a monster truck made his way down the hall. I wandered into the playroom to observe a sweet five year old girl, her head bent low as she put the finishing touches on her painting masterpiece. Behind a bedroom door I could hear grunts and high-pitched voices, all produced by one kindergartener in the midst of his intense Lego war. This, I thought to myself, this is a slice of heaven on earth. I am gonna miss this. My heart and arms were completely full.
Thank you, Lord, allowing me to see the extraordinary in the ordinary.