Then and Now

This is to the mom at Wegman's today. You were having lunch with your four children, all little. You chatted with them. You had to tell the toddler to stop touching her brother's food. You had to promise another slice of pizza. You juggled a baby in your lap. Your oldest boy took the antics off his siblings in stride. 

I saw you and I smiled. I helped you clear your table. I know these days. Heck, I still have three little ones under five years old. 

But I have time. Time that seemed to pass slowly at first. Time marked by stinky diapers and tantrums, and first words and learning how to walk. But now? It flies by me, I can hardly keep up. 

Tomorrow my second child turns eighteen. Eighteen. She is grown up and beautiful and so loved by little sisters and brothers. 

I know you are tired mom. I know today at least two of those darlings were supposed to be in school. I told you it's okay. You'll survive this time. You'll look at your husband much too soon and wonder how it is you have adult children already. I know you said this was it, your limit. I know. It's okay. 

But for today I want you to know this. Your oldest? He is sweet. I could see by his easy smile and how he was ready to chat with me. Those middle cuties, they will be best friends before you know it. And that baby? She is stinking cute. Hold on tight, mom. It will go too fast. I promise.

When Life Hands You Split Peas...Make a Salad!

Yesterday I was tired. Beyond tired. The baby, battling a cold, had given me quite the night. Awake at 2 am and angry that I would not let her nurse AND let her pinch and scratch every inch of my exposed flesh. (Why this soothes her, I will never know.) She cried. A lot. I think I did too.

I was a zombie. Between that, the wonky schedule changes because of the weather and the bitter cold, not my best day. By 4 pm I gave in and took a brief nap. I woke up a wee bit better and went to tackle dinner. I did not want to cook. I had planned a lentil salad, only to realize that those were bags of split peas, NOT lentils, sitting in the pantry. I was still so cranky. I was sure I never wanted to look at another pirece of chicken as long as I lived. As I mucked around in the kitchen making dinner, dirtying one pot and pan after another, I apologized to Sam. His chore is dishes after meals. I must have sounded pathetic. My sweet son told me not to apologize. Of course I was getting things dirty, I was cooking the family's dinner. How was I expected to cook without getting some things dirty. Silly mom, don't apologize. 

Right there, a moment of grace and mercy. Even  with my bad attitude, all day, my son showed me in a moment gratitude and mercy. It lifted me up. 

Dinner was delicious. Did you know you can use split peas like you would lentils, just have to watch the cooking time very carefully so they don't become mushy? Yep. Salad was perfectly tasty.

God is good and so is my son.