Welcome to the second in a series of motherhood posts, guest written by Amy, mother of two young boys, over at Raising Men, Finding Me.
I fell in love with her writing style instantly. It's simple but
adorned with the kind of beauty and insight that only authenticity can
offer. I feel so honored that Amy has agreed to share her intimate
world of motherhood in her lovely and touching style once a month here
on Wish List. And I have a feeling she'll connect with so many
of you mothers out there, perhaps in a way I can't. Here are her
words, her thoughts, all rooted in love. Enjoy them.
Extraordinary moments can be found in my ordinary
day, but I have to watch carefully for them because they are seemingly so small
and fleeting that they are easy to overlook. They happen in between the folding
of the laundry and the mopping of the kitchen floor, and they often involve my
children. Last week while we were walking back from the center of our town, my
littlest one dropped his pinecone and began to cry. Without any prompting, his
older brother immediately offered one of his own treasured pinecones to him. My
mama heart swelled at the sight of such a simple, generous act by my
three-year-old son. This same son of mine who, when his younger brother was
born, asked me if the garbage truck could take the baby away – away to any
place other than in his Mama’s arms. After every snack and every meal, I get
down on my hands and knees to wipe up the food that has fallen onto the floor. Sometimes,
my littlest son will come over to me, hitch up the back of my shirt, and blow wet,
sloppy raspberries on my lower back. It lightens my mood, every time. In the
evening, when my children suddenly freeze upon hearing the squeak of the back
door and I watch as they run to it to greet their Daddy who is returning home
from work. That daily moment holds so much joy, excitement and love. Finally, at
the end of each day, as I wearily lay between them, the feeling that I get
during the last five minutes before the boys fall asleep, when their bodies are
still and their breathe has deepened, creates perhaps the coziest, calmest,
sweetest moment of my day. These moments are the ones that get me through the
days when I feel that who I am and what I am doing is unimportant and small. And
that is what makes them extraordinary.
