What is it like, you ask, to be the mother of a newborn and a two-year-old? Picture, if you will, me in my underwear (which, by the way, is not a pretty sight) and a stretched-out tank top covered in spit-up, attempting to nurse a screaming 6-week-old while a very cute toddler crawls all over my mountain of clean laundry with poop smooshing out of his diaper and a face covered in Malt-O-Meal. I lay the baby down to change the toddler's diaper and the phone rings. I'm expecting a call, so I leave the poopy toddler on the floor next to the screaming newborn and race to the phone, only to step on a toy airplane. I limp across the room and begin hunting through the diaper bag for my cell phone. By the time I find it, I've missed the call.
But then there are other moments. Like today, when I put on the painted rock necklace that Bright made me (with Grandma's help), and he squealed with delight to see it hanging around my neck. I wore it all day, even to the park where I held my precious sleeping Zion in the shade and watched my sweet, delightful Bright throw rocks in the creek. I wouldn't have traded that moment for all the world.
Sunday was my first day back in the pew since the baby was born. It was SO good to stand there, in cute clothes instead of my husband's boxer shorts, washed up and out of the house, worshipping the Father. We were singing a particularly moving song that resounded in my heart. The lyrics were, "Fill me up, so I can be poured out." That is what motherhood is, being poured out. And so I prayed, "Fill me up with You, so I can be poured out all over these children. Through my sacrifices day to day may they see you, and KNOW you, forever. Amen."
