Then, and Now, and Later

A few years ago, I was watching my friend at church (who has four boys), and she just seemed so...together. I mean, she was dressed nicely, didn't look exhausted, and was even volunteering to do stuff. She was running the play group, leading Bible studies, and I was so the opposite. I constantly looked at her, and wondered what my problem was, why couldn't I have my act together? 

Fast forward a few years. About six months ago, I was at church practicing music, while my kidlets were sitting in the pew colouring in, and a new-ish friend came in for the service. We smiled and waved, and then church started. Afterwards, she said to me "I don't know how you do it - you've got FOUR kids, and you're up there singing, and they're just sitting there, colouring. She expressed her admiration, and I probably blushed, and mumbled thanks. I went home though, and it stuck with me. And all of a sudden, I remembered this conversation I had with my friend (the first one), and she told me that someday it would happen - that it wouldn't always be so hard, that someday I would be the one just getting on with it. At the time, I thought she was just being kind. At the time, I couldn't fathom it ever getting easier. Yet here I was, and all of a sudden I WAS HER, and my new friend was ME. 

Second scenario, similar to the first. in 2012, my oldest started kindergarten. I had a toddler, and a very tiny infant. I frequently wore dirty clothes to drop off and pickup, struggled with everything, and nearly always felt like I was a mess. I used to see this woman (who is now a very dear friend), slim, beautiful, and with a very kind face, dropping off her children, with her two young sons on bikes. I used to look at her, and admire her so greatly, from the way she handled everything so gracefully, to her seemingly endless patience. They've since changed schools, but that image remains fixed in my mind's eye. 

Fast forward again, and this year I've got one in Year Two, one in kindergarten, and two small children. I might not always look spiffy, but I like to think that I no longer look completely frazzled. Or maybe I do. But I definitely feel so much more confident about this whole "Mother of Four" gig. 

The thing of it is, I get it wrong a lot. But I also get it right a lot. In two and a half years of school, I can count on one hand the number of times we've been late for school. With fingers left over. Also, I can probably count on two hands the number of times I haven't been there for drop off/pick up. I might be a bit of a mess (I'm working on it!) but I'm there. And that's the important thing. My children may not remember me looking like Claudia Schiffer, but I hope they remember that I was there. 

I hope they remember the times when we had 'vegetable-free' weekends while Daddy was away and Mama was just looking for one less argument. I hope they remember the 'mental health day' we took, having Cinnamon Rolls for breakfast, and hot chips for lunch. I hope they remember going to the secondhand shop after swimming lessons, the times when we all slept in the same room because of a thunderstorm, and the epic "camping in the lounge room" during school holidays. I hope they remember telling goofy knock-knock jokes, and all the silly pronunciations which are now a part of our family vernacular. I hope they remember those times, because I will never forget. They are woven into the fabric of our family. Someday, after I'm gone, my children will be able to wrap that fabric around them, and feel my loving arms around them. The warmth of those memories will seep into their bones, and they will know that they were well and truly loved. 

XO,

Sarah