These are the days of kids fighting and wrestling and asking to be tickled. The days of being exhausted chasing a determined toddler, and of using my arms as a baby straight jacket to keep Ragey from interupting games and practices and meetings and from b-lining across parking lots.
These are the days of being tripped up by one of my kids while carrying the baby and falling flat on my face in a crowded gym. The days of taking long deep breaths and praying in the middle of the grocery store because one’s screaming, one’s hungry, and one has to poop.
These are the days of smiling watching Rage commandeer American Girl scooters and Rowan reading books to her younger brother Rigby. They’re the days of getting lost smooching baby cheeks and little foreheads and hearing Ragey say things like uh-oh and ni-night and my heart exploding in my chest.
They’re the days of rolling into a ball on the living room floor in the warm sun and enjoying the quiet during naps and school.
These ARE the days, my friends. The ones we don’t get back. They’re the only ones we get to do right now, right where we are, with the people who surround around us in this season of life. Let’s not wish them away. Let’s “live with all our might” (Jonathon Edwards) … and choose joy in spite of the hard.