5 + 3

On occasion the reality hits me that I have a five and three (almost four) year old. Man, where has it gone? I can recall countless nights of interrupted sleep, thousands of diaper changes, meals made, dishes cleaned, all of the duties of a mom or caregiver. Every now and again I realize that I've forgotten about many of the stages from baby to toddler to preschooler. Instead of remembering the daily tasks, the thoughts I want to remember and dwell on most are the times of enjoying each other and playing with my boys – the on-the-knees times, wearing out the jeans times– with a single focus uninterrupted by thoughts of needing to do something or be somewhere else, the days of having nothing to do except be with each other and explore a world so new and exciting to them, the teachable moments that come only from immersing and engaging oneself in the throws that come with loving a young child, often trying and testing and more patience building than imaginable.

As much as I'd prefer times of relaxed play, the house still needs to be cared for (especially after two moves last year), laundry and dishes cleaned and on. There is typically a constant tug-o-war going on in my heart over what to do first.

My Grandma always had a clean house. I lived with her for two years. Dishes were never left in the sink, pots and pans were always shined, sheets were ironed, laundry precisely hung. I distinctly remember a phone conversation she and I had years later when Gabe and Will were babies. She told me to forget the dishes and just get on the ground and play with them. She said the dishes and house can wait. These conversations were refreshing to me (at first I had to ask myself if she really had just said what she did) and since she passed away a few years ago, her words are even more refreshing in a deeper way now. They have gained importance and a deeper meaning over the years, especially during the times when my house is messy and I feel like a failure for not having it all together, whatever that means.

I think of her nearly every day (ironically as of this last fall I live just four blocks from her old little bungalow house). Many of the household chores / methods she taught me make more sense now than then, and mostly – and thankfully – her words ring in my ears about enjoying the present reality of playing with my boys. Not great for my house, but so good for my soul, especially when I realize that raising my two little guys really and truly is going so fast.