My son said, “I’m so SICK of hearing you whine. You are getting on my LAST nerve. Now go to your room.”
And he meant it.
And he was talking to me.
And I think I heard myself in a small, little boy who is almost three.
Hmm. I really need to think this one over.
My daughter tries so hard right now. She wants to do so much. I want her to stop. Just stop it and move out of my way and get out from under my feet and stop stop STOP BOTHERING ME.
On the other hand, I don’t know what I’ll do the day she does stop it.
I think I will cry and then I will long for the days when she was too affectionate and too attentive and all up in my face 24/7. I will want to hold her in my lap and stroke her blond hair and tuck her in bed and read her a book and help her memorize her Bible verses and lie in her bed “for just one minute” in the dark feeling her warm skin and hearing her soft breath. [sigh]
I don’t want her to ignore me. I don’t want to regret anything. She’s my only daughter. Lord help me to be patient and to endure the irritating moments because I know that all she really wants is to prove to herself and to me that she’s big enough, smart enough, able enough, and totally and completely head over heels in love with me. Help me to be still and quiet and to take these moments and cherish them rather than push her away. Because if I keep pushing her away I am going to lose her far sooner than is natural. I don’t want that. I sure don’t. She’s my girl. Mine.
I rush through my days. I have a schedule. I need to be here, then feed the baby, then get myself there, then check this, then do that, then arrange for this, then cook, then give baths, then read something, then call someone, then pay for something, then do it all over again adding about 10 more things to the list that weren’t there yesterday. Laundry piles up, house gets dirty, kids make messes, dishes don’t put themselves away, groceries don’t just arrive on the doorstep. There is so much that needs done and I’m way behind. I doubt I’ll ever catch up.
Then I walk by the mirror. I see a frazzled person wearing a stupid looking ponytail again and strands hanging down my face. I can’t remember the last time I wore make up. I don’t really go anywhere anyway so why bother? Frumpy clothes. Poor posture. Angry expression and so tired looking with dark circles under my eyes.
Who the heck is that?
Spit — that’s me. Wow. What happened?
Here’s what happened.
I had children. Three of them all under the age of five.
And even though the mirror shows what it shows, what it doesn’t show is one happy woman. The mirror reflects my face. The mirror does not reflect my heart. And my heart is full and I am so deeply happy with my crazy life and my crazy kids and my crazy husband.
Because this is exactly what I wanted to be. This is exactly what I prayed for. I am Heidi Reed. And even if I won’t win a prize for best dressed or best hair or best make up or best Mom or best Wife or best anything — even if I won’t get a medal or tiara — not one little thing I do or sacrifice for the lives of my kids goes unnoticed. Not one.
God is watching.
He doesn’t care if I look frazzled. I am beautiful to Him and I happen to believe that He is mighty proud of His little girl. His princess. His creation. My heavenly Daddy is proud of imperfect, struggling, frazzled, and happy go lucky little me.
And I am too.