the stuff we get to do

It started yesterday at bedtime.

I was ready to bolt, but Henry wasn't ready for me to go. He needed a few more minutes, a little bit more assurance of my presence. Sometimes things dawn on you, but this completely washed over me. This little boy laying here in his bed is getting ready to sleep and he only wants one thing; me. Everything clicked and I realized that I get to. I get to lay next to him, hum a song, smooth his hair and spend the last waking moments of his day with him. I get to watch him as he drifts off to sleep. I get to hear his breathing get all rhythmic and his eyelids flutter open and closed until he finally closes them and falls dreamily into sleep.

I get to reassure him by just being near him. And it's a good reminder because so much of the time I feel like there's stuff I have to do and I begrudge that stuff sometimes.

Dinner is not something I labor over because I have to have something on the table at 5 o'clock {as if it's ever ready then anyway}; it becomes a chance to feed my family. I get to create a meal, to choose the things I feed my children. I get to give them nutrients that help their little bodies grow strong and healthy. I get to spend time gathered around our little table with my family.

I don't feel so stuck and bothered when I realize that I get to be a farm girl. I get to live in the little tiny town of my husband's birth. I get to live in a former one room schoolhouse. I get to live with my little family in the very house where my children's grandparents started their lives together. And I get to enjoy it because it's only for a season.

I get to wash the grass stains out of little baseball pants after tball practice. I get to watch the sun rise most mornings because of my early rising boy.

I would be telling you a lie if I said I didn't love it most mornings. Because truth be told, before I go to bed each night I think about the next day, the lists and to-do's, but mostly I look forward to those first early moments, coffee in hand, curled on the couch with my boys. Those moments, long and lingering and unrushed are my favorite part of the day.

I get to referee fights and settle disagreements between two small boys who most often want the same {toy, cup, ball, cookie} at the same moment. It keeps me mentally sharp.

I know in my heart I need to cherish these things that feel like tasks every day because I suspect in the years to come these very things will be the ones that I miss the most.

These are the things that I probably should do and will continue to do, but mostly I am thankful for these things that I get to do.

{Pardon the dandelion infestation of a lawn! William thinks these "yellow flowers" are the absolute most beautiful flowers in all the world. And I had to teach them how to blow the seeds on the white ones.}