We hear it all the time. From the seasoned moms. The grandmas. The warriors. The ones who have been here and come out on the other side. They look at me with my frazzled face attempting to wrangle [three] boys in public and they gently smile and say: “You’re gonna miss this.”
Am I though? ….am I really?
Realistically, I know I will. I’m sure I’ll look back on this time of my life and the only things I’ll remember are the tiny voices, the endless hugs, and the beautiful memories. But right now, in the thick of it, I’m tired. Like… really tired.
People call them seasons in life. I’m not sure why. There are clearly [four] weather seasons and they come the same time every year (well… maybe not for those of us in the Midwest, but you get it). This “season in life” has been rockin and rollin in my life for the past [eight] years. I think of it more like a level. Ya know… like when you defeat a level in Super Mario Brothers and the little flag slides down, fireworks go off and you move on to the next level. These are life levels. And right now, this level is exhausting. I’m just trying to make it to the flag and go down the tunnel alive.
Before you get all worked up, don’t. Let me clarify: I am eternally grateful for my life and the blessings that come from small children. They are my whole world. And I do take time every day to be thankful. I smile and laugh every single day.
But let’s be honest, we are what I like to call middle-middle aged. Those of us in our mid-30s to early-40s who are done having children, done with the baby stage, not quite to the teenager stage and have houses littered with toys, stuffed animals, half ripped art projects, stains, and broken Target decorations that lasted about [four] days before someone decided to use them as weapons. Can I get an amen? ….I’ll wait.
