Contentment

Sometimes the memories I like the best are ones that have a little fuzz around the edges. They're not snapshots, they're vague recollections. They are more emotionally recollected than intellectually. They rely on senses--a taste, a touch, a sound--to take me back to a place I once was. This past Labor Day weekend we had so much family time doing the types of things that fill hours and days but not record books. It was wonderful. Going for a morning walk and letting the kids wander by the creek that runs through town; splashing in the pool; exploring a new town--Stamford, CT--just for the sake of going somewhere we haven't been before; eating a picnic in the park. These are the moments I love. Tonight Garrett and I took the kids outside before bedtime for twenty minutes of walking barefoot around the complex, wandering wherever we wanted to wander. We walked hand in hand--that is, with Amelia in between. Gabriel and Abigail walked hand in hand in front of us. The kids wore pajamas, Abby and Amelia decked out in rocketships and trucks because girls can wear boy jammies too. I was happy. Completely content. Joyful in the most satisfying, settling way. I love that one glance at Abigail in Gabriel's blue pajamas makes me almost flow over with all feelings good and strong and lovely. Must this be what God feels when he looks at us? His beautiful and silly and wayward children? It doesn't matter what my kids do to aggravate me--all it takes is an instant of neediness and I'm at their service--how can I help you little one? How can I make you know you are loved beyond all measure? This afternoon, for at least the third time in a week, Gabriel removed his diaper during naptime and soiled his sheets. There are things I don't love about parenting toddlers. But truth be told, there are not many. The good just so exponentially outweighs the bad. And those moments when I am truly needed are satisfying to the core. Abby tripped on an invisible something today and face-planted on the hard floor, giving herself a bloody mouth and a puffy lip. Not five minutes later, Gabriel pulled the potted fern from the top of our tall bookshelf onto himself resulting in a scrape between the eyes, a mighty scare, and a carpet covered in dirt. The first thing they both wanted? Mommy. And oh, how wonderful that is. Amelia, though less accident prone today, is just as needy. I've taken to calling her my little cling-on lately. I think she thinks she can actually burrow into my skin and wear me like a blanket. Sometimes, when I am foolish enough to think there is anything more important than graciously and gratefully receiving such affection, I get annoyed at the little arms tugging and pulling at me. But when I am fortunate enough to remember how amazing it is to be desperately loved, I stop and soak it in. Is there anything better than being a mom?

I don't think so.