I have recently come to realize that our life is hectic. And it's all because we have three kids 3 years old and younger.
Leaving the house is no longer: have the idea to leave, grab your keys, purse, and go. It's: make sure Owen is fed so I don't have to nurse in the car, dress the kids, brush their teeth, sometimes brush their hair (depends on if it's just Walmart), make Elliott pee, change Easton's diaper, pack snacks, throw in the blankets and the binkies, find shoes (harder than it sounds), buckle the kids in, forget my phone, forget the blanket, forget the ergo, then finally pull out and realize I left the front door open. And don't forget about the diaper bag. I'm always so proud when we're only 5 minutes late.
Meal times are no longer at the dining room table, candlelit, perfectly paired with the wine, and spent talking about hopes and dreams. Instead they are most often at the kitchen bar, with everyone eating something different that suits their particular pallet, while at least one child is upset. Our conversations are about airplanes and dinosaurs and "Easton don't stab me with a knife" and "Elliott you're not a kitty cat please sit in your chair." Jesse and I are almost always holding one child on our lap attempting to eat... or be fed by said child on lap. We're lucky if half the food from the children's plates ends up in their mouths instead of on the floor. And we're lucky if we don't have to change someones clothes after the meal is over.
Movie time is no longer our evening snuggle time to sit back and enjoy the show. Instead it's just enough time to keep the older two kids occupied while I can get Owen to bed, rush back and brush the kid's teeth, change their clothes into jammies, and shove some extra food into their mouths because they refused to eat dinner, all while they stare and the magical box of colors like zombies and allow me to complete these tasks.
Bedtime is no longer getting caught up on in good book and not caring about the clock. Instead bedtime consist of the great debate over which toys are allowed in bed. No Easton you can not wear shoes to bed. No Elliott you can not have ALL thirty of your stuffed animals with you. There is plenty of light. There aren't any bears in your room (not even exaggerating). You can drink your water out of glass... it'll taste the same as out of your purple cup. And then there's the three returns to the room over previous said nominal issues to re-tuck both kids in.
Date night is few and far between and always much appreciation is given to the sab-sucker we tricked into taking on our circus. And then (at least for me) it's spent worrying about: did they eat their dinner, did they brush their teeth, did they throw a fit for bedtime, did Owen do down okay? And believe it or not they have all been alive upon return to home... so far.
And parties... oh parties. The whole inspiration for this blog. Parties are no longer playing, "Whoever gets drunk first doesn't have to drive... just kidding lets both get drunk and walk home." Parties are zone defense. One covers the hazards while the other covers the exits. It's the constant "Where's Easton?!" (Just down at the neighbors, no big deal). Parties are bringing your own food because the kids are terribly picky eaters. Packing a change of clothes for everyone because you know you'll need them. Forgetting to eat because you've been so busy chasing the kids around. Forgetting one kid is in the house napping (and could possibly be awake screaming their head off for all you know) while you enjoy your 5 minutes of peace and the only alcoholic beverage that will be consumed the whole night. Parties always end earlier than everyone else followed by, "Why are you leaving?!" Uhhhh... because have you been paying any attention? All three kids are melting like Popsicles left on the sidewalk and I'm about the lose my cookies.
And life... life is no longer about Damaris and Jesse. Life is about our three beautiful children we chose to bring into this world. Life is watching Easton give baby Owen kisses. And hearing Elliott stop what she's doing and say, "I like you Mom." And seeing Elliott ride a bike for the first time while yelling "I'm going it!" with such pride. And snuggling in bed. And family group hugs. And farm truck rides with Daddy. And overall watching our creations grow, explore, and love. I can't imagine the overwhelming love God has for us if the love I have for my children is already so great. The hectic craziness that comes along with having three kids three years old and younger is so worth the reward of having three kids three years old and younger.
Leaving the house is no longer: have the idea to leave, grab your keys, purse, and go. It's: make sure Owen is fed so I don't have to nurse in the car, dress the kids, brush their teeth, sometimes brush their hair (depends on if it's just Walmart), make Elliott pee, change Easton's diaper, pack snacks, throw in the blankets and the binkies, find shoes (harder than it sounds), buckle the kids in, forget my phone, forget the blanket, forget the ergo, then finally pull out and realize I left the front door open. And don't forget about the diaper bag. I'm always so proud when we're only 5 minutes late.
Meal times are no longer at the dining room table, candlelit, perfectly paired with the wine, and spent talking about hopes and dreams. Instead they are most often at the kitchen bar, with everyone eating something different that suits their particular pallet, while at least one child is upset. Our conversations are about airplanes and dinosaurs and "Easton don't stab me with a knife" and "Elliott you're not a kitty cat please sit in your chair." Jesse and I are almost always holding one child on our lap attempting to eat... or be fed by said child on lap. We're lucky if half the food from the children's plates ends up in their mouths instead of on the floor. And we're lucky if we don't have to change someones clothes after the meal is over.
Movie time is no longer our evening snuggle time to sit back and enjoy the show. Instead it's just enough time to keep the older two kids occupied while I can get Owen to bed, rush back and brush the kid's teeth, change their clothes into jammies, and shove some extra food into their mouths because they refused to eat dinner, all while they stare and the magical box of colors like zombies and allow me to complete these tasks.
Bedtime is no longer getting caught up on in good book and not caring about the clock. Instead bedtime consist of the great debate over which toys are allowed in bed. No Easton you can not wear shoes to bed. No Elliott you can not have ALL thirty of your stuffed animals with you. There is plenty of light. There aren't any bears in your room (not even exaggerating). You can drink your water out of glass... it'll taste the same as out of your purple cup. And then there's the three returns to the room over previous said nominal issues to re-tuck both kids in.
Date night is few and far between and always much appreciation is given to the sab-sucker we tricked into taking on our circus. And then (at least for me) it's spent worrying about: did they eat their dinner, did they brush their teeth, did they throw a fit for bedtime, did Owen do down okay? And believe it or not they have all been alive upon return to home... so far.
And parties... oh parties. The whole inspiration for this blog. Parties are no longer playing, "Whoever gets drunk first doesn't have to drive... just kidding lets both get drunk and walk home." Parties are zone defense. One covers the hazards while the other covers the exits. It's the constant "Where's Easton?!" (Just down at the neighbors, no big deal). Parties are bringing your own food because the kids are terribly picky eaters. Packing a change of clothes for everyone because you know you'll need them. Forgetting to eat because you've been so busy chasing the kids around. Forgetting one kid is in the house napping (and could possibly be awake screaming their head off for all you know) while you enjoy your 5 minutes of peace and the only alcoholic beverage that will be consumed the whole night. Parties always end earlier than everyone else followed by, "Why are you leaving?!" Uhhhh... because have you been paying any attention? All three kids are melting like Popsicles left on the sidewalk and I'm about the lose my cookies.
And life... life is no longer about Damaris and Jesse. Life is about our three beautiful children we chose to bring into this world. Life is watching Easton give baby Owen kisses. And hearing Elliott stop what she's doing and say, "I like you Mom." And seeing Elliott ride a bike for the first time while yelling "I'm going it!" with such pride. And snuggling in bed. And family group hugs. And farm truck rides with Daddy. And overall watching our creations grow, explore, and love. I can't imagine the overwhelming love God has for us if the love I have for my children is already so great. The hectic craziness that comes along with having three kids three years old and younger is so worth the reward of having three kids three years old and younger.
How's the gray hair coming?
ReplyDelete