My boys are not for the faint of heart. That is a promise. Try and capture them between four walls and you will find yourself begging for mercy. Their perpetual motion is dizzying. It is exhausting in both body and mind. Sometimes, I will be wholeheartedly honest, I look at other families going about their day -be it the farmers market a family dinner or a trip to the hardware store- and occasionally a sigh of envy will escape my lungs and nose. I see children just holding the hand of their parent, slowly walking the isles and I think…. well now, that looks so easy.
I know that if my boys were not so chock full of energy then they wouldn’t be my boys. I know that someday this explosive fireworks shooting out their every pore/ tornado swirling through a china shop type of excitement will be just the thing that brings them success and happiness, but every now and then I get a twinge of, “what happened?” reeling through my veins.
When a day like this has come and gone. After an evening spent in uncontrollable reflection, the morning promised unrestriction. I know where these shaken up soda bottles thrive.
Let em run.
Give them a chance to explore.
Give them sun. Tell them to smell the grass. Play with shadows.
Let them wrestle.
Forget the rest. Don’t pin yourself against anything else. They certainly aren’t.
Motherhood is a lesson in love. It’s a roster for acceptance. It’s a mental battle to defeat and a cloud to float on. Its everything and nothing. It just is. And sometimes, sometimes, it just isn’t.
But not today.