There’s Always Another, Until There Isn’t

I never understood why my friends wished for time to slow down. It was going plenty slow, thank you very much. Most days I wasn’t sure if I was going to make it to bedtime in one piece when I was juggling a combo of babies, toddlers, and a pregnant belly. I never got weepy at the end of a school year, only panicked that I hadn’t made enough plans to fill the summer. Tiny clothes didn’t make me nostalgic. It just meant I needed a bigger bin to store what we had inherited for the next kid.

Time certainly slows down in the summer and I intend to soak it all in

When the fourth girl arrived to complete our family, it was almost freeing to finally be done with the bulky baby items. Good-bye to the baby swing I stubbed my toe on more times than I could count. Good-bye to the toys with monotonous music and flashing lights that made me insane before 10am. Good-bye to the baby clothes I scrubbed with Zote at the bathroom sink after a blow out, because they had to be in decent shape for the next child.

Hello (occasional) full nights of sleep. Hello to sleeping in because the baby doesn’t need to be breastfed first thing. Hello verbal cues instead of screams and cries I cannot interpret. Time was progressing at just the right rate, I had enjoyed my third and fourth babies to the fullest thinking they were each my last! I was ready to step in to Phase 2, or so I thought.

In June my third child “graduated” from pre-school. She wore a blue cap with a tassel and held a rolled up diploma. The cap was barely holding on to her pig tails by safety pins, because “her head is big for her big brain.” That’s my girl! My usual response is to laugh at the cute, silliness of it all. When the other moms in the crowd would get emotional watching their babies all grown up, I could just tell myself, “It’s okay there’s always the next baby. And the next one. And the next one.” Until this year, “Oh shoot, I’ve run out of babies!”

Then the pastor of the world’s cutest Christian preschool went up to say a few words, “When they crawl into your lap, close the computer. Eat all the ice cream you can this summer! Before you know it, these will be high school graduation caps.”

Stella’s big brain cannot be contained by the cap!

I was lucky enough to have my sister visiting this past week, so she got to come to all the lovely “Maycember” events from recitals to bible study brunches to preschool graduations. Her oldest son is entering his senior year and will be graduating for real in a year. If the pastor’s words shook me seeing my third on the brink of entering kindergarten, I can’t imagine the tailspin it sent her mind into. His time has arrived and it feels like it happened without warning. I feel like I fell asleep in the car and just got woken up when we arrived. Thankfully I’m waking up in kindergarten and not senior year.

We got away a few times over the week and it was glorious

I need to stop wasting the moment wishing for what was, or what is to come. By being present in my current season I avoid yet another regret. I spent so many of the little years worrying about feeding them the right stuff, filling the days with productive activities, and thinking I could protect them from all harm. I was scared of germs and I was an anxious wreck any time I was not with them. I worried myself sick. Sometimes I passed up opportunities to make memories to appease my anxiety.

“Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to your life? Since you cannot do this very little thing, why do you worry about the rest?” Luke 12:25-26

Worry wasted so much of my precious time. Time I can’t get back. When they’re little, time seems eternal, minutes creep by and hours seem to never come. Time is out of my control. I can’t speed it up or slow it down, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. So the sooner I let go of worrying about not having enough of it, or having wasted it, the sooner I can enjoy the bounty of what’s left of it.

Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. -Psalm 90:12

The feeling of time creeping by when we’re sleep deprived and can’t take another minute of a whining toddler pulling at our pant leg is deceptive. The truth is that our days are numbered, and childhood is only 8-10% of the average lifespan. For the rest we’re troubled teens or pushed too quickly into boring adulthood. The period in time when a hug is a cure all and make believe rules is all too fleeting. We would be wise to cherish it, not rush it.

Embrace the poofy dresses that are impossible to contain in a car seat buckle

If I’m going to have any chance of enjoying the demanding young years, I have to have realistic expectations for the season I am in. Solomon was definitely talking to all the moms out there in Ecclesiastes when he wrote,

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.” -Ecclesiastes 3:1

Life is chock full of activities when you have kids of any age at home! But sometimes I try to force something our family isn’t ready for yet. There were nights I would log in to my zoom class in one ear while reading bed time stories to my toddler. When I tried to study during nap time and Aurora would refuse to nap I would snap at her over my Bible. I was pushing my next phase perhaps before its time, when maybe I should have just waited for the next season.

The other day I was messaging with a friend who is struggling to find rest in her season of motherhood with three kids ages six and under. Quiet rest is this elusive thing when you have babies or toddlers whose greatest art is that of interruption. I would love to pick the brain of the mother who doesn’t have 17 half-done projects around the house. I should really put away last week’s laundry so I have somewhere to put the wrinkled clean stuff. How about those half painted kids projects full of good intentions? Now all the paint is crusted over, so I’ll have to throw away the trays and brushes. What a waste!

As precious as the elusive, truly quiet rest is, we have to learn to find rest in Jesus in the midst of crusty paint and chaos. Resting in Jesus is not always a quiet, nap time coffee alone with my Bible. Sometimes it’s resting in knowing He’s got this (because I certainly don’t got this!). When my tornado of children swirls around me, I can rest in God’s promise that when I am weak (exhausted, strung out, overwhelmed, in pain, broken), He is strong. I can hold onto His peace at bedtime when they’re bouncing off the walls if I ask Him to step in, to take over, to be my strength when I’ve got nothing left to give. When my youngest is crying because her dinner bowl spilled and I’m crouched under the kitchen table trying to keep the rice from permanently squishing into the knees of my pants while my oldest is pelting me with hypothetical questions, I take a deep breath and remember:

“Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary. -Isaiah 40:31

That silly little preschool graduation was a wake up call. It was a call to build the fort, have the movie night, and wear every dress up costume in the closet. It was a reminder to blow off Monday and go to the zoo. It’s never too late to cherish the moment and embrace the season…with a scoop of chocolate ice cream.

Summers are for ice cream for dinner