I know it's so redundant that you're probably sick of hearing it, but I'll say it again: the days are long, but the years are short. I was reminded of that statement again yesterday when I took Drew to pick up his cap and gown for his impending senior graduation. It seems like I blinked, and nineteen years of mothering flew right by. I remember those long days well. I had four kids in four years, so of course I remember them well. I counted every minute of sleep I got. When I was ultra tired in the afternoons before their daddy came home, I would lay down in the floor of the living room, on my stomach, and let all four of the kids crawl over me like I was their human jungle gym.
I remember being so tired of teaching them their manners and repeating things all the time, things like the golden rule, and paraphrasing one of the verses I always said to them out of Proverbs about how pleasing to the Lord it was when brothers lived in harmony. I remember them wrestling all the time and telling them that someone would get hurt, and they had been warned to not do that, so unless blood was present, don't come tattling to us about who got hurt.
I also remember making them get out of my house. I say that with a smile. When I had absolutely HAD IT UP TO HERE of four screaming, wild banshees running circles in this house, or when I had heard enough bickering, I would make them all go outside. "GET OUTSIDE NOW, AND DO NOT COME IN UNTIL I TELL YOU YOU'RE ALLOWED." I said that too many times to even count. We lived in a neighborhood conducive to this, though, the street was FILLED with kids around their age. I sat out there with them most of the time, but once the little ones turned four, I would let them go out with their older brothers watching over them. I would keep my front door open, so with that and all the windows on the front of our house, I had no problem keeping a watchful eye over them all. Our yard, backyard, and driveway were the hangout spots, though. We always made sure to have plenty for them to do: sports equipment, bikes, an awesome swingset and fort thing, and in later years a basketball goal and trampoline. They practically LIVED out there, and many nights, asked to sleep out there. We always said yes, they always changed their minds.
I remember YEARS of struggling with what in the world to make for dinner for all my picky little eaters. Their childhood pediatrician was correct: most of them did outgrow their weird food quirks. (Most of them, I said...Jonah is still one to drive me bonkers about dinner.) There were times I wondered if we would eat macaroni and cheese, hot dogs, and chicken nuggets for every dinner for the rest of our lives. (We didn't.)
I remember so well the days of hating Sunday mornings. It was so hard to get them all out the door, and we always had wayward hair to deal with. I remember riding to church thinking to myself how awful I had been to them in the middle of that frustration of trying to leave, and then hypocritically walking into the church doors. The Lord was always so faithful to deal with me about that. Later on, I learned to apologize frequently, because none of us are perfect.
Funny story: one time we made it ALL THE WAY TO CHURCH with one kid who forgot his shoes. I do not remember coming back home, because our church was in Cordova, a good twenty minutes away. I guess he went with no shoes. (It was Noah.) He did that later on, as well, in elementary school. Because I always dropped them off in my pj's, I had to come home, get dressed, and take him back and check him in late. (I'm rolling my eyes.)
I remember (not with fondness, necessarily) being so frustrated while trying to clean the house. You know that meme that says cleaning a house with kids is like brushing your teeth while eating oreos? Yup. That is so true. I would be thrilled to just get one area cleaned up. Five minutes later the living room was overrun by toys again. And oh, the toys. Having four boys that close together, you can imagine all the junk we had everywhere. For those of you who always admire me for my clean(ish) house now, it was NEVER that way until the youngest two hit twelve. We had toys all over every surface. I eventually added a toy box downstairs so we could at least put them away quickly when people came over.
I loved dressing them all somewhat alike. For ages you could look into their closets and see all the blue shirts. I loved for them to coordinate for pictures, and man did I take a ton of them. I knew the day would come when they would no longer be so willing to smile for me, so I'm glad I had the foresight to do that. I'm pretty sure someone told me that.
I remember very, very inconsistent quiet times. I never could get it in every single day, because life and young kids. So for those of you who are reading this and struggle with that, know that it's okay. Have a little grace for yourself. I know now that I could have prayed and asked the Lord to give me little pockets of time throughout the day to spend with Him, but I didn't do that. I was doing great to not forget a kid when I left, and I actually did that one time. But have some grace for yourself. The Lord wants any amount of you He can get, and whether it's in the morning or at night, or while you're hiding out in the bathroom with little ones fingers sliding under the door to see if you're still there, it's okay. He is gracious to us, and in the years to come for you, He will redeem all that time that you missed out on.
I will say that once mine all turned four and up, I taught them to not interrupt me (unless it was an emergency) if they saw me praying and reading my bible. They were old enough to understand, and it never hurt anyone to wait an additional fifteen minutes for that glass of chocolate milk they were screaming for. I always let them "catch" me having quiet time, too, because I wanted them to know what I was doing and I wanted them to remember that as much as their mom loved them, she loved Jesus way more. I wanted them to remember seeing me at the kitchen table spending time with Him every single day.
I remember hearing that these days would go by very fast, and I was always careful to not say "yes" to too many things or activities. I would definitely get out every once in a while with a girlfriend for a little girl's night out, and my husband encouraged me to do that, but I made sure it wasn't too often. I figured I would have the rest of my life to do that kind of thing someday. (And I was right.) On that same note, Todd and I decided while the boys were two, four, and five that going to church would never be an option. We made the decision that we would go every time that we were able to, and the boys would grow up knowing that. And that worked, friends. When they're little, there is such a small window of time that they're excited to go, and if you get them in and used to it during that time, they will never think any differently. Now there did eventually come a day when they started asking if we had to go anymore. It had grown boring to them, and we knew then that it was time for us to make a change. So seven years ago tomorrow, we started attending the church we are at right now. That does happen sometimes. It doesn't make us church hoppers, but the kids need to be happy in church. If they're not, they will rebel and someday they will stop going altogether. I've seen in a million times.
It wasn't always easy and there were days that it was definitely a sacrifice to live that way, but I would never change it for anything, even if I could.
I make all this sound like I'm done, and though I am not at all, my time with them is growing shorter. With them being nineteen, eighteen and about to graduate high school, and the twins being fifteen, it'll be here before I know it. My life already looks so different. More often than not, I find myself alone at home. Todd will be working, and all the boys will have made plans. I get time to myself so often that it makes me wish for the opposite. (I NEVER thought that way when they were young!) I watched Drew walk in to get his cap and gown yesterday, and I was so overcome with emotion all of a sudden. It doesn't matter that he is my second one to graduate in a year's time, it never gets any easier. I am so excited for him and his future, so don't get me wrong, it just went by so quickly. It proves that Karen Kingsbury's book was right: we need to not keep track of what they do FIRST, but what they do for a last time. I cannot remember the last time Drew covered my face with lotta kisses. (Yes, he would do that, and that is what he called it.) I can't remember the last time I held them in my lap. They all were so lovey dovey growing up, and were always in my lap or right next to me. One day, I woke up, and that was no longer the case.
Drew's not going anywhere, by the way. It's just (yet) another end of an era. He will be attending Southwest in the fall, and staying home while going. This will be the first phase of his next four years. Lord willing, he will be pursuing a career in nursing. He takes a test in June to see whether or not he qualifies for the nursing program at Southwest. If he does, that's great, if not, he will go there for two years and then transfer to another school to finish out his degree. Graham didn't go anywhere either, last year after he graduated. But in that one year, so much change has happened. Graham went from being a teenage student to a full grown man, it seems. He works full time and makes really good money to be so young, he's in a serious relationship, he makes his own plans and schedules and pays for his own hair cuts. He does fill me in on things occasionally and is always so kind to ask if I mind if he does something, but he doesn't have to do that. He just does, out of respect, I guess. I appreciate it more than you can imagine. I can count on two hands the times we have all sat around the dinner table together, just the six of us, since Christmas. It's not many.
It's been an awesome past nineteen years. I cannot wait for the rest of them, to see where the Lord takes them all. It is so exciting to begin to see His plan for their lives unfold. I love seeing that light in their eyes when they start to get an inkling of what they might want to do for the rest of their lives. Jonah and Noah are even starting to get that about them now, and I love it. I never want to stunt their growth, because as I have said for a sweet forever, I'm not just raising sons. I'm raising future husbands and fathers, and at some point, I have to start to let go. I never want to hover over them, and I don't want to handle their business for them for too long. They have to learn to do all that for themselves. We are always around if they need us, of course, but we let them start to do these things early. (Graham has been dealing with his own bank account since he was fourteen.) I don't want them to think they need us to do things for them, so that is why we have done what we have. I lean on Todd's expertise in this all the time, because that is how he was raised to think by his dad, and we are basically just doing the same.
I'll leave you with a few of my favorite pictures of my (almost) graduate.
Drew as a young toddler. He was two in this picture and was crying over not wanting to sit on Santa's lap.
He was second grade in this one, I think. We were on a boat in Hot Springs, Arkansas.
Drew LOVED baseball...playing, watching, collecting cards. This was in his fifth grade year.
And Drew in high school, a few years ago, doing what he loves most, pouring into little kiddos. He is such a magnet for any and all of them.
Thanks for reading, friends. Love to all.
Beautifully written Jennifer!
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