"To get the full value of a joy you must have somebody to divide it with."
Lately our lives look a bit like this: interrupted sleep by one, two or sometimes all three kids; early morning wake-ups and school bus pick-ups; balancing personal hygiene and needs with a needy baby and equally needy four-year-old; cooking, cleaning, bathing, repeat; school bus drop-offs; homework; the witching hour; family dinners enduring the complaints of vegetable-eating and sitting in our seats requests; bedtime shenanigans; late night M&Ms snacking and Netflix binging; bedroom checks and stealing kisses from sleeping babes; contented, bone tired sighs against pillows; one last glance at the baby monitor before nodding off to start anew in two to four hours.
It's easy to get lost in the shuffle of our days. The debris at the end of the day tells a story better than words. Toys strewn about, abandoned mid-play. Clothes discarded in the middle of the floor, traded for superhero costumes. Books scattered on the coffee table, the favorites of the week at the top of the pile. Dishes left here and there. Blankets and mittens and shoes and stickers and half-finished projects. These all tell a story of our days. Full, busy, messy, chaotic, loud, tiring, endless, repetitive. But when the day is done and I'm the last awake making my way through the house, switching off lights, stepping over clutter, kissing soft, chilled cheeks, murmuring prayers and I Love Yous, it's this debris that makes me smile. The evidence of this phase of our lives. Sticky fingers, snotty noses, loud, ugly tantrums, wet kisses, knock you onto your butt hugs, backward and inside out clothing, warm bodies melding into mine, endless Watch Me and Play With Me requests, back breaking rocking of fussy babies.
Lately, as I fold the never-ending laundry piles, I've been setting aside more and more outgrown clothing. Proof. Evidence. My babies are growing. A new phase looms. Let's make the most of this sticky, messy, loud glorious one before it's gone.