Ramblings From a Nursery Chair

The following was typed on the Notes App this past New Year’s Eve as I rocked my youngest to sleep.

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If my future Momma self could talk to my current Momma self…

Maybe she would tell me to take a deep breath. And smell his head.

Yes, smell his sweet baby head. For he is most likely the last seven-month-old you will rock to sleep. And they change into boys. Stinky boys {still smellable, but stinky}. Yes, smell him now.

Forget that your kids have no clue that it’s New Year’s Eve. You didn’t get streamers, party hats, or noisemakers. You rushed around all day in the typical day-to-day care of your family. You took all three to the doctor, for the middle one is sick. Give yourself a hug, Momma. {And a glass of wine.} That took courage and patience, and yes, every ounce of the coffee you consumed on the way there.

You didn’t talk at dinner about what you were thankful for from the past year or how you will grow this coming year.  And that’s okay. There was a delicious meal on the table {and one kid ate it}. One was sick, and the other only has two teeth. That’s a win, for sure.

Be kind to yourself.

They have a lifetime for New Year’s traditions. So do you. Don’t rush. Slow down. Please, for you.

Just slow down.

One boy will recall this day and know that you cared for him after he woke coughing, feverish, achy from a sick nap.

Another will sleep more soundly because his head rested on your chest as he drifted off.

Yet another will remember that you played dress up that morning in the costumes he received for Christmas. And he will remember that you passed on the coveted solo grocery trip and instead, invited him along. And you stopped to see the lobsters. And you bought ice cream for dessert.

Because it’s just a day, you know. Another day. Another day to be with God’s most beautiful blessings in your life, and you never get this day back. So whether it’s a holiday, a birthday, a school day, sick day, play date day, laundry day — you take that day and squeeze every bit of joy out of it, even joy that doesn’t appear to be so on the surface.

It’s New Year’s Eve. You don’t want to set any goals, don’t want to make any vows. Maybe it’s because you haven’t slept in three weeks, not even the normal crappy I-have-three-kids sleep. You might just be feeling lazy.

But really, be okay with this. Just exist, and love these little people. Love their faces off. And your husband. It’s been a ride, and he’s been right there through it all. And yourself. Let your head hit the pillow each night loving the woman you were that day in all her triumphs, in all her defeats. She’s growing too, after all. Have peace for the woman you are still becoming.

It’s New Year’s Eve, Momma. Cheers. {Now hurry up. T. Swift is about to ring in the New Year!}

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Jenn is an English teacher turned stay at home mom to boys Wyatt {2010}, John {2013}, and Abram {2014}. South Louisiana born and raised, North Louisiana educated, and Texas “polished,” she has found Houston to be home with her husband for the past ten years. After infertility struggles, in 2010 she traded in A Tale of Two Cities for Goodnight, Goodnight Construction Site and has since been busy discovering ways to learn while playing, maintaining a semi-scheduled family life, and integrating both Texas and Louisiana culture into her family. Besides making memories with her boys full time, she enjoys reading, running, crafting, cooking, and football. Y’all stop by When In Doubt, Add More Salt to read more about family adventures with the boys and Jenn’s thoughts on hot summers and Pinterest pin attempts, and her love/hate relationship with March Madness brackets.

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