Deep in sleep I'm awakened by the sound of thumping from the floor above. Pausing, I listen to the frequency of the pitter patter. If it's a steady, methodical gait of plodding, then it's my four year old. If it's a torrent of quick little hummingbird steps, it's the two year old.
They share a room, as of a few months ago, and it's both parts stressful and comforting at the same time. The brothers have reached an age where they can both communicate their needs and wishes. It's easier to know if they need a drink, snack, or a blanket. But with this helpful communication comes it's drawbacks: bickering, coersion, & manipulation. And at the age of four and two, it can be difficult to determine whether a shriek is joyful and ecstatic or a result of pain and injustice.
So, sometimes, when those feet hit the floor, I don't just study the pattern and methods of the pedestrian pats. I also listen for any form of verbal banter.
My hope is that those pitter-patters will move peacefully out of the bedroom, down the hall to the playroom, thus leaving the other potential patterer to continue resting. Despite lots of conversation, pleading (from our end), and training, we usually end up with one doing acrobatics, bonking the wall and the floor with limbs before finally deciding to go to the playroom themselves. Or, I peel myself out of my heavenly bed, sneaking past our sleeping newborn & my husband, past our hungry dog waiting outside the door, to drag myself up the stairs and remind the waker to move to his next destination.
By the time I do willfully wake up (at a time when normal people would deem acceptable- ha!) both boys have been playing with toys in the play room, or have spilled their way down the stairs. It's usually their clammer that awakens me as they play and the decibels get greater as their bellies rumble louder. To their cre
dit, they will often have feasted on an apple, staving off their hunger just a bit longer, and allowing this mama to rest a tad more.
I'm grateful for their independence, their ability to entertain themselves.
Weekdays I get dressed & nurse the babe before making eggs or cereal & yogurt. On the weekends, though, we eat special breakfasts of pancakes or crepes with savory and sweet toppings.
It's not lost on me that these mornings are to be savored. That life will start to move faster, our children will start school and be involved in sporting events or other extra-curricular activities on the weekends. That we'll be eager to spend full days at the beach or out hiking.
I know these days of being woken up by them won't last forever. One day I'll have to wake them up. Imagine that?
There will come a time when the house is still quiet when I voluntarily wake up. When I'll drink my coffee, read, and think before greeting their faces for the day. Perhaps I'll even get some exercise. They'll walk down with sleep in their eyes, perhaps even letting ME know that I woke them up with the sound of scraping the cast iron. I hope I'll look at them and smile, remembering a different season.
A few months ago we were eating dinner with some friends and our two year old went running out of the room. His sweet, slightly clumsy steps making that darling pitter-patter as he followed the older kids.
My friend said, "Oh, remember when our kids made that sound?"
Her husband kinda chuckled and responded, "No, I don't. It's amazing how fast it goes."
To which she said, "We will never have that sound in our house again..." Whistfully and joyfully, she said, "We'll just have to borrow it from you."
And it was then that I really started listening to the pitter-patter, observing those feet become more steady with each step.
In the last few months I've been told I need to write a book. I haven't the ability or the slightest idea of what I'd write about, but it did get me thinking that I do want to write more. I want to write these simple details about a morning at home. If there's one thing I've learned in this journey, it's how much life plows forward. How much we grow with our kids, how much we savor in the time it's there and then how much we really just can't remember. I've documented a fair amount of our lives and I, when I very rarely look back at old posts, am always astonished that I don't remember some of the details and stories I've written down. Thank goodness for the written word. And thank goodness for the grace to move forward and the joy to be experienced in the now.
I think I'm going to occasionally start writing these little vignettes from our life. Writing brings me joy, feeds my soul, and also comforts me to know that it's in black and white.
We still have not printed any of this blog, but it holds a WHOLE lot of life. I got lost looking back through this blog a few nights ago for something in particular, and I realized that this holds memories, hardships, and joys from 2011 to the present. What a gift. A gift I plan to utilize more, if just for our little family.
For those who might read this blog, thanks for sticking with me through the drought.
They share a room, as of a few months ago, and it's both parts stressful and comforting at the same time. The brothers have reached an age where they can both communicate their needs and wishes. It's easier to know if they need a drink, snack, or a blanket. But with this helpful communication comes it's drawbacks: bickering, coersion, & manipulation. And at the age of four and two, it can be difficult to determine whether a shriek is joyful and ecstatic or a result of pain and injustice.
So, sometimes, when those feet hit the floor, I don't just study the pattern and methods of the pedestrian pats. I also listen for any form of verbal banter.
My hope is that those pitter-patters will move peacefully out of the bedroom, down the hall to the playroom, thus leaving the other potential patterer to continue resting. Despite lots of conversation, pleading (from our end), and training, we usually end up with one doing acrobatics, bonking the wall and the floor with limbs before finally deciding to go to the playroom themselves. Or, I peel myself out of my heavenly bed, sneaking past our sleeping newborn & my husband, past our hungry dog waiting outside the door, to drag myself up the stairs and remind the waker to move to his next destination.
By the time I do willfully wake up (at a time when normal people would deem acceptable- ha!) both boys have been playing with toys in the play room, or have spilled their way down the stairs. It's usually their clammer that awakens me as they play and the decibels get greater as their bellies rumble louder. To their credit, they will often have feasted on an apple, staving off their hunger just a bit longer, and allowing this mama to rest a tad more.
I'm grateful for their independence, their ability to entertain themselves.
Weekdays I get dressed & nurse the babe before making eggs or cereal & yogurt. On the weekends, though, we eat special breakfasts of pancakes or crepes with savory and sweet toppings.
It's not lost on me that these mornings are to be savored. That life will start to move faster, our children will start school and be involved in sporting events or other extra-curricular activities on the weekends. That we'll be eager to spend full days at the beach or out hiking.
I know these days of being woken up by them won't last forever. One day I'll have to wake them up. Imagine that?
There will come a time when the house is still quiet when I voluntarily wake up. When I'll drink my coffee, read, and think before greeting their faces for the day. Perhaps I'll even get some exercise. They'll walk down with sleep in their eyes, perhaps even letting ME know that I woke them up with the sound of scraping the cast iron. I hope I'll look at them and smile, remembering a different season.
A few months ago we were eating dinner with some friends and our two year old went running out of the room. His sweet, slightly clumsy steps making that darling pitter-patter as he followed the older kids.
My friend said, "Oh, remember when our kids made that sound?"
Her husband kinda chuckled and responded, "No, I don't. It's amazing how fast it goes."
To which she said, "We will never have that sound in our house again..." Whistfully and joyfully, she said, "We'll just have to borrow it from you."
And it was then that I really started listening to the pitter-patter, observing those feet become more steady with each step.
_________________________________
I think I'm going to occasionally start writing these little vignettes from our life. Writing brings me joy, feeds my soul, and also comforts me to know that it's in black and white.
We still have not printed any of this blog, but it holds a WHOLE lot of life. I got lost looking back through this blog a few nights ago for something in particular, and I realized that this holds memories, hardships, and joys from 2011 to the present. What a gift. A gift I plan to utilize more, if just for our little family.
For those who might read this blog, thanks for sticking with me through the drought.
