Here I am again, sitting next to a bed while someone sleeps.
I have been doing this for nearly eight years.
I’m listening to the peaceful breathing and enjoying the ever-fleeting silence with my bible, my notebooks, and a pen. It’s where I write, most often, while I sit and watch the littlest ones sleep.
It’s a peaceful moment in the midst of a chaotic day. It’s the moment my heart remembers why I stay home. Why I have given my life to raising these kids. Why I wish I’d started this sooner.
I was a working mom for the first five years of motherhood. I loved everything about my job. I loved working and spending my days with adults. It was tough to juggle at times and there were difficult days when kids were sick and I had to find help. Some evenings I worked later and would rush home to dinner, baths and bedtime routines but those nights were necessary and we made it work.
When I was pregnant with our third child, we moved to a new town. Instead of searching for a new job, we decided it would be best if I stayed home for a while to help the children transition to a new area.
And that’s when I realized all I had missed!
The moments like this one where a little boy naps quietly.
The moments where little children sit together and play with legos.
The unrushed morning breakfast.
The arguing over whose turn it is to sweep the floor after lunch.
