Here's Why, Life right now

No bigs.

On Tuesday mornings, I meet with a big ol’ group of women, all ages, and we listen to our teacher and drink lots of coffee and oogle babies and escape our toddlers for an hour or so. Bible Study Tuesday has become a staple in my life.

Today, our fearless leader asked us, “What are you doing in your life that counts for eternity?”

Quite the question.

My mind went right to my lap, which was bouncing a fussy Charlie Girl.

My lap is tired.

I’m tired — Mother of Newborn Twins tired. Mother of a Two-year Old tired. Mother of a Six-Going-on-Sixteen-Year Old tired. My eyes are tired of opening at 3am. My ears are tired of screeches. My arms are tired of catching, lifting, hoisting, holding. My skin is tired of being touched and touched and touched. And my nostrils? Well, yeah, they’re tired too.

This is what I’m doing that I hope, hope, hope is counting for eternity, at least in a positive way. And here’s what I think.

I’m doing really, really well. I am KILLING IT.

I know this for a fact because my kids bathe daily, usually. I know because nine times out of ten, Carter’s homework is finished before the morning it’s due. It’s a fact because Jack ate split pea soup for lunch and only spilt half down his shirt and because 50% of my twins are sleeping through the night.

I know because Carter says if he could pick anyone in the world, he’d want to have dinner with me and a sleepover with Grammie and Miley. I know because Jack hasn’t broken a bone yet. I know because I regularly load up four seat-belted kids into my sky-blue minivan and successfully pull out of our driveway without major bodily injuries. I know because our kids can’t tell the difference between real and fake meat, because one boy loves asparagus and the other loves salad.

I know because church on Sundays, gymnastics on Wednesdays, baseball on Saturdays. Because I remembered to cut out all of those Boxtops for Education. Because more whole foods! Fuel points! Notes in his lunchbox! Two dishwasher cycles, three loads of laundry — daily!

I’m totally bragging here, but I even exercised this week. I even curled my hair once.

But I couldn’t do it all by myself. I’d like to take a moment to praise the other power players raising these little humans: their dad, their grandparents, their aunts and uncles, and Amazon Prime.

This #momlife is the bee’s knees, and I am rocking it. You go, Heather Lynne. Keep on keepin’ on.

(But mostly, what I’m trying to say is this #momlife is so, so hard, and I’m going to keep on keepin’ on. Eternity is on the line.)

 

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Letters to My Kids, Uncategorized

Wiggle wiggle wiggle wiggle — STOP.

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Dear Jack,

You really, really loved the cauliflower at dinner tonight. You gave it a “Iz good” and a thumbs up — this is your official stamp of approval.

You wear a Paw Patrol hat every (EVERY) day, usually backwards.

You are two and two months.

This week, you decided to be terrified of the vacuum. You scream and cry unless I will hold you while  I vacuum. So I do. You are heavy; this is difficult.

You have lots of new words, every day.

You run into things all day, every day.

We keep working hard on changing that.

You say “OH YEAH” and clap when we go through Dutch Bros, because you know you’re in for chocolate milk with whip cream on the straw.

You just started giving me free kisses. I waited a real long time for this, kid. Also, when you see Dad give me a smooch, you tell us, “I love you” in order to join in.

You are anything but the easy way. You are loud. You are fall-asleep-behind-your-bedroom-door.

You’re as tall as a four-year old.

You love the small shovel you stole from Dad. You drag it behind you from one end of the yard to the other. And you tell it “nigh-nigh” before bed — every day.

Your favorite color is red. (Of course it is.) You will start fights over wearing a red shirt, drinking out of a red cup. You get mean over red.

You love holding hands across the table when we say dinner prayers and saying Ay-men afterwards. But sometimes, you bend down to lick the food on your plate while we’re praying.

You love Miles and JoJo and Sean and all of your cousins. You can do a somersault on your own. You are enthusiastic over everything, whether it’s EW BOOGERS or MMM DEE-LISHUSH or STEEEENKY POOP GROSH DEES-‘GUSTING. You are big round eyes and crinkled nose and crookedy grin.

We have watched way too many YouTube videos of garbage trucks.

You are the keeper of the yard; no birds will land in the grass on your watch from behind the screen door.

You are belly laughs and ugly whines, crocodile tears and backseat dance parties. Wiggle-wiggle-wiggle-wiggle-STOP.

You make my heart beat faster, and not always because I’m chasing you.

I love you, Jack Michael.

Always.

Mom