Seizing the moments

This morning I was playing the piano in church, which meant I had to leave the house by 7:10am: dressed smartly enough to be on a stage in front of 700 people, well fed enough for my third-trimester-self not to faint from hunger, and caffeined-enough to stay awake until lunch time.

However, at 6:55am, I was still unfed, uncaffienated, and plunging a toilet clogged with poopy water in my smart church clothes. All this while my husband lay in bed because he was feeling awful, and my children ran in asking for breakfast, help with the potty, a treat, a project... and it was all I could do to not have them invent a sliding game in the poopy soup that was slooshing all over the floor. Yikes. A moment in motherhood.

It is easy to get lost in those moments. It is easy to lose yourself, your perspective, and indeed your joy in those moments. For there are man of them.

But as I made my way to church this morning (fed, caffienated, and not smelling like sewage sally), I remembered how many MORE wonderful moments there are than those awful poop-soup moments. And by the time I finished the 5 minute drive, I was smiling.

I love the moments when, daily, as they finish breakfast, my kids leap down from the table and proceed to run wild giddy laps chasing each other around the kitchen.

I love that they run not because they are late, not because they are exercising, not because they are competing. They run because it makes them happy.

I love that they run to the bath when I say it is bathtime. Not because there are bubbles (although sometimes there are), not because they love being clean. But because they love to be in the water. It makes them happy.

I love that so many things make them laugh. Things falling down are funny. Slipping is funny. Food is funny. Faces are funny. Words like gooey and floopy and smishsmash make any sentence funny. Bananas are funny. Clouds that look like elephants are funny. Telling jokes is funny (and by the way, "tiger in a sandwich" or "gooey in a cup" count as hilarious jokes for my 4-year old)

I love the simplicity of their faith. Their faith that we love them, that we will be there, that all will be alright. The simplicity of their trust in God too: when we saw a guide dog leading a blind person some time ago I explained about work dogs and how cool it was that people who couldn't see could have dogs to help them find their way. And to this, my daughter asked: "why doesn't she just ask Jesus to put mud-spit on her eyes?" Sweet girl. I love her so.

I love how they mimic us. This morning my son covered me up with a blanket and sang me a mish-mash version of "Jesus loves me", said "night night mama. I yuv you. seep well.".... putting me to bed with exactly the same song, blanket and words that we tuck him in with night after night.

I love that Teg tells me nearly every day that I am the best mommy in the whole wide world. Yesterday she upgraded it to "you are the best grown up in the whole world". And Jeremy, bless his generous and unjealous heart, did not respond as I would have if I were him and said "hey! What about me?", but instead agreed with her decision.

I love that whenever I come home, whether I've been away for 5 minutes in the garden or for 4 hours playing the piano at church - they run WILD EYED and DELIRIOUSLY happy to greet me and claim their snuggles.

I know that one day their greetings will be less exuberant. One day I will not be their favorite grown up. One day they will run and bath for utilitarian reasons and not for the sheer joy of running. One day we will not celebrate poop going in the potty instead of in underwear. Right now, these events call for joyous singing and treats. But one day, everyone will use the bathroom privately and there will be no ululating in the WC.

And so as I think of today, I am even smiling at the memory of the poop-soup swilling around my bathroom in my uncaffienated state, and thinking "this day was blessed. This day was good."