Hard Yet Good

I wrote this last night but wanted to post it this morning. Still decided to write it in "today," real time type language.

Today we HAD to get out of the house and go to the park because, hello, 70 degrees in April--or ever--doesn't come around to Seattle all that often.

See that swing above? Roger LOVED it. As though you couldn't discern that from the utter delight on his face!

Too bad I was trying to text Jason our plan for picking him up at the bus station and let Roger be literally--LITERALLY--two seconds too far ahead of me. Too bad that he has no awareness of danger and ran right in front of two kids going nanners like monkeys on said swing. And too bad that he got whacked in the temple and thrown a few feet by that black rubber portion you see by his feet. There I was, running already, trying not to make "Oh hey-ell no I will not sleep" Jules bounce too much in the Ergo while trying to move as fast as I could to save my other baby and being two seconds (maybe less, honestly) too far away to save him in time. You think that sentence was ugly and forced and rushed? Try living that sentence. Ugh.

Praise God that he was ok! A few tear filled moments of snuggling and he was totally fine. Meeting the world's greatest dog helped, too :)

I was sitting there, feeding Roger a snack after we took a nice, away from the play structure, walk around the park holding hands. (*The BEST*) I could see a mama sitting on a blanket with a baby around 9 months old.  She was talking to her baby, soaking up some sun, intermittently chatting with a friend. Just relaxed and enjoying her baby.

And I was jealous. I've never had that experience. By the time Roger was old enough to sit at the park like that it was cold (him having been born in March) and then by the time it was warm I was 4 months pregnant with Jules and physically just wrecked, so trips to the park happened but were excruciatingly painful as I chased around a super active 14+ month old.

Fast forward to now, and the park is always days like today, back screaming with Jules in the Ergo (but I would never carry her any other way!), trying to keep up with Roger and feeling horrible that he got creamed while grateful that he didn't get a concussion. Not a good experience for me, other than that I'm really grateful to give my kids a chance to get outside and play and enjoy the sun.

I'm not whining. It's life as a mom of littles--it's hard. Worth every drop of sweat down my back, every tear shed by Rog, every little smear of blood when he fell and scraped his knees 10 times (but no tears then because he's a rock star like that), every little wince by Jules when the sun streamed into her virgin, cloud accustomed eyes. But it's hard work. It's fun, but not carefree fun.

It wasn't carefree afterward, letting Roger have his first ever *own* ice cream, a mini Blizzard at DQ. No teensy-Mama-share bites for him! It was a mess and he gummed up the windows standing in the booth. He threw napkins at the mercifully empty booth behind us. He dipped fries in his ice cream because he dips everything possibly dippable in anything that can possibly be construed as a dip. He laughed and giggled. He was a delight! It was work, but again so worth it.

And then there's Jules--that girl is a little attention suck if there ever was one! Even strangers, immediately upon meeting her, are all, "She's a really happy, easy baby, huh?" And yeah, she pretty much is. I mean, every day we laugh and giggle and my heart just nearly explodes with how blessed I am to be her mama. Sure, she fussed and needed to eat in the middle of Dairy Queen. Sure, she kept trying to grab everyone's food. Sure, I tried giving her the teensiest little taste of her first food (plain vanilla softserve) and she had no idea what to do with it and turned 1/32nd of a teaspoon into a huge mess. That perfect girl of mine sure was cute doing all of the above though :)

The park has never been carefree fun for me with my kids and Lord only knows if it ever will be. I love the *idea*of a sweet, relaxing, joyous afternoon with my littles at the park but by the time they're old enough to be mobile without some level of incessant danger we'll likely be having another and starting over. I won't lie--sometimes I'm like, "Do I really want to have another and start over all of the hard stuff of a baby again?"

But here's the greatest thing, and why we probably will have more--I adore my kids. ADORE them. I could write a million words--and you sure as heck know I could--and not even begin to touch on the depth and width and height of my love for them. Wouldn't you know it, my sweet Jesus loves Roger and Juliet and me and you even more than all of that. Better yet, while death will separate my love from my children, never will I nor they (I pray) nor anyone who has received the free gift of salvation be separated from Christ's love. Good stuff.

I have digressed into things far too wonderful for my heart to try to contain to a mere blog post so I'll end it there. I have a post in the works about how we're trying to figure out what it looks like to fit exercise and writing and Jesus time and pretty much anything that is not directly childcare related into my life. I want to write here regularly. In my head I am writing three posts a week but reality it's been an average of like .034972 per week for the last forever. Whoops.

To those sticking around, thanks lovelies.

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