Time

We went on an excursion to Amish country this morning.  Someone in the van was super excited about all the horses and cows she saw along the way.  I mean SUPER excited.  It was cute.  As we were driving along, John and I were talking about how quickly time passes. Our oldest son is in Michigan this weekend for a Bible quizzing competition and it just seems weird not only that he isn't home, but also that he is so far away.  It seems like yesterday that he was a tiny baby in my arms and now he is away from home and probably not missing his mother a bit. 

This afternoon, I decided to pull our Christmas decorations out of the attic.  While I was up there, I discovered multiple bags of clothes from when the boys were younger.  It seemed like a good time to sort through them and see if there are any good enough to take when we go to Ethiopia.  Bad idea.  Looking at the tiny outfits and picturing the boys in them was almost more than I could take since I was already feeling sentimental about the swift passing of time.  I am a sap.  When Jack was a baby and I packed away some of these very same clothes after he outgrew them, I cried and cried.  Of course, I discovered I was pregnant somewhere in there, too, which I'm sure may have contributed to the emotional overload.  For what it's worth, I'm pretty sure that all expectant mamas, whether by birth or adoption, experience very similar fluctuations - whether hormonal, emotional or whatever - and sometimes they rage out of control.  Today was one of those days for me. 

As we were talking about being more intentional in our parenting, John brought up a scenario from yesterday.  He had just arrived home from school when Isaac and Sena asked him to play football in the living room.  This has become a favorite game and the playful tackling elicits giggles from all the participants.  John would have preferred relaxing with a cup of coffee (on the porch if the weather was warmer - we are practicing for old age), but he realizes that a day will come when no one will be asking him to play football.  He is so good about making the most of these opportunities and I have much to learn from him.  I am thankful that my children have been blessed with such an amazing Daddy.

When Jack was a newborn, a friend from out of town visited me.  She shared this with me and I have often thought of it through the years:

Babies Don’t Keep
by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton

Mother, O Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing, make up the bed,
Sew on a button and butter the bread.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.
Oh, I’ve grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue,
Lullabye, rockabye, lullabye loo.
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo
The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
And out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo
But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo
Look! Aren’t his eyes the most wonderful hue?
Lullabye, rockaby lullabye loo.
The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow
But children grow up as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs; Dust go to sleep!
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.

Now that I truly understand how fleeting the time we have with our little ones truly is, I am more intentional in how I spend time with Sena.  There is a lot of rocking that goes on around here!!