Beautiful in His Time is a participant in multiple affiliate marketing programs. The author of this blog may receive commission for purchases or clicks made through links on this website.
A week ago I was sitting on a park bench surrounded by some dear mom friends from my church. There were 8 of us, and I was the only one who didn’t have a child under age 5.
I almost hadn’t come that morning.
1) I had scheduled my own playdate for the same group of ladies the very next day. Back-to-back playdates is way too much extroverting for an introvert like me and I was already dreading it.
2) While, for the most part, sleepless nights are a thing of the past, my 5-year-old had been up with a nightmare the night before and I had lost a few hours of sleep. I was grumpy. I was on my 3rd cup of coffee. I’m not sure if they could tell, but I was basically, the walking version of “Sorry I’m late, I didn’t want to come” t-shirt.
But by the time we had eaten our fill of muffins and casserole and caravanned our way over to the park, I was really glad I had come. Babies were fussing. Toddlers were toddling and falling. Little ones were screeching and screaming. I exchanged a glance with the one mom among us whose children range from toddler up to pre-teen. She knows it all. I don’t remember what she said. Maybe it was something like, “So do you miss it?”
I remember trying to communicate and it coming out all weird: “Oh gosh no! I am not trying to be rude, but I forgot how much work and noise and stress it was!”
Don’t get me wrong, my life is still all work and noise and stress. But it’s also vastly different now.
Because, in that exact moment, I had no idea where my kids were. They move fast enough now that tracking their every move at an oversized playground like “Kingsburg” (their nickname for their new favorite park) is downright impossible.
I check in from my comfy spot on my bench every 3-5 minutes to make sure they are still alive and haven’t been kidnapped. I listen for screams and shouts. They are loud, even when they are healthy and happy, so most of the time I can rest assured that they are 100% fine. They run by at full speed stopping long enough for a drink, or to complain I didn’t bring snacks, or when I need to get Ezra his medicine. Sometimes I dig a band-aid out of my wallet. I yell at them every once in a while to watch out for the babies. I intervene when they start fighting about whether to play “rescue” or “history.”
But mostly – when I’m there at a park alone I can check my phone, walk laps, make phone calls, or just breathe.
I don’t have to worry about nursing covers, changing poopy diapers in the trunk, keeping them from toddling off a step, or making sure they aren’t stealing someone else’s sippy cup.
New moms looooooove unsolicited advice. *sarcasm*
They love being told “Just you wait!”
Just you wait when they are old enough to talk back…just you wait…it gets a lot harder!
And it’s true, because the stakes get higher and the issues are different.
But just you wait…
Just you wait until, when your kid is thirsty at the park, you can hand him the keys so he can run to the car to get his own water bottle.
Just you wait until you don’t have to carry a diaper bag.
Just you wait until you can sit on a bench at the park and not move for 5 or 10 minutes.
Just you wait until you can depend on your kid to unload and reload the dishwasher every day. (Yes, he will roll his eyes and complain, and take forever to do it, but he will do it, and you will come to depend on it.)
Just you wait until you can listen to your kid proudly belt out the music at church, and you know it’s coming from his heart.
Just you wait until they sleep through the night.
Just you wait until they can dress themselves.
Just you wait until they can put on their own band-aids and pour their own cereal and read the back of the cereal box…or the shoe box. Whatever.
Just you wait until he can ride a bike.
Just you wait until he can Swiff the floor and get the mail and bring in your Amazon packages.
Just you wait until he can read a recipe and bake cookies on his own.
Just you wait until they can play in the yard without supervision.
Just you wait until the playgrounds you used to go to don’t seem big enough anymore.
Just you wait until babbles become heart-warming conversations.
Enjoy the now. It’s beautiful and wonderful, but I know it’s hard and exhausting and draining.
The future is also hard and exhausting and draining and beautiful and wonderful. I’m convinced that motherhood doesn’t ever really get easier. It just gets different.
Just you wait…