Our seasons, they are changing, with the dredging out of the slow-cooker and sweaters and temperatures predicted to dip their toes into the 30’s next week. Autumn is barreling down on us, yet I – the girl who abhors heat and humidity and welcomes the frigid winter – am clinging to summer. I feel we missed pieces of summer as they blew past while we learned to be a family of four. But of course I welcome fall with joy, and know the depth of sweetness each season brings on its own.
‘This is a season‘, I say to myself throughout the days, when the nights are short and the days seem somehow shorter. There seems to be so much to cram into the day, and feelings that accompany each thing, because something is always sacrificed when action is taken on something else. So I juggle all the plates, praying none of them break and neither does the girl holding them. This season is a blessed one, deeper and richer than any other I’ve journeyed through yet. It’s also one of the most difficult seasons I’ve traveled in, this working mother of two little tiny people season.
This is a season of…
…near-constant guilt. To work means giving up time with my kids (guilt). Giving up work hours and projects I would love and be good at to spend time with my kids while wishing I could accept the project (guilt). Eating my toddlers leftovers and skipping workouts because I’m exhausted (guilt). Buying a new pair of non-maternity jeans because it’s time to embrace their new size (for now) (guilt – because of the money spent and their new size).
…an unorganized life. I do what I can, planning meals, keeping a tidy calendar, vacuuming a couple times a month… but it all feels like we’re flailing about while life whizzes by in a messy rush.
…new things. Husby has a new job that has returned him to working full-time in the (now shared) basement office. We are leading a new worship service at our church. I am one of the new co-coordinators for my MOPS group. The Boy has started a new daycare/pre-preschool thing twice a week. Everywhere we look there is something new. I’ve never been so grateful that there is nothing new to He who holds us, and I find myself gravitating to old favorites whenever possible. Watching black & white TV shows, listening to vinyl records, spending time on the porch, eating comfort meals, looking at old photos… the calming effect of nostalgia at work.
…joy. A lot of joy. Amidst the mess and lists and events and whirling days, there is so much joy to be found, in things both big and small and sometimes both.
…being responsible for the cleanup of two in diapers. The end.
…not enough money. We’ve been scraping by for a while, ever grateful when a paycheck arrives on time or early, when an unexpected gift is given, when we find a $20 in a long-unopened purse. For many reasons, this should get better soon, but we are a paycheck to paycheck family with no end in sight.
…laundry piles and a broken dryer. That kind of irony isn’t hard to find these days. I’ve been heard saying, ‘That’s about right’, with a deep sigh so often that I’m surprised The Boy hasn’t mimicked it yet.
…not enough sleep, for any of us. Some days the toddler naps, some days he declares mutiny. The baby has been waking to sleep with daddy in the wee hours of the night. Mommygirl and Daddyboy stay up late – often 1:00am or later – working on things that waited patiently through the daytime hours. We all need more rest.
…the drive-thru. God bless the drive-thru.
…a lot of coffee. We crank up our new Keurig a couple times a day, knocking back mugs of joe like whoa and kind of loving it. Sam asks regularly now, ‘Mommygirl? You want make some coffee to drink?’ =)
…so, so, so much love. It’s everywhere, making my heart grow daily and bursting at the seams of our little house and overflowing in our prayers. There is so much love in this season of our lives. Despite the other things, good and difficult, I do feel it’s the love that is defining this particular season of our lives. What a wonderful thing to be able to declare.
These things are just passing thru, and please don’t mistake my listing for complaining. I’ve tried to be clear about that. It’s why I declare daily, ‘this is just a season’, and I try to grasp it in the sieve of my fingers. There are countless other pieces to this season too, among them darling little clothes and a breast pump and board books and babywearing and writing and so much more. I love this season, in all it’s chaos and wonder.
What do you feel is defining the season YOU’RE in?
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