Raising kids is a daunting task. I remember when one of our sons was around two years old. I ran upstairs to put some laundry away, and in the course of about five minutes, he had knocked down nearly five loads of folded laundry from the couch, poured a remaining can of pop all over the coffee table, and grabbed my lipstick out of my purse and drawn all over himself, the toilet, and the cabinet! No wonder my husband had a frazzled wife when he came home. I look back now and think, why did I leave pop in the living room? Why did I leave my purse within reach? Why didn't I put him in a playpen?
Once, when our daughter was around 2 1/2, she watched her daddy set a sprinkler outside. She asked me what he was doing. I told her daddy was trying to make the brown grass turn green (she has always had an inquisitive mind, perhaps that is why she is a cardiac nurse). It was maybe a day or two later, when I was in my sewing room, that I heard a strange noise coming from the living room. I went out to see what my daughter was up to. In total shock, I surveyed the living room being doused with water from the sprinkler! Frantically I ran outside to shut it off. When I asked her why, she merely said, "I wanted to turn the brown rug green." It was completely logical to her.
Yes, raising kids was exhausting at best. But the rewards we reap today were worth every moment at home, every book read aloud, every "why" questioned answered, and every patient moment for them to tie their shoes because they were in the "me do" phase.
As I sit in my quiet house, I wish I heard the pattering of tiny feet, the "but why, mom", and the "are we there yet" questions. I guess I'll have to wait for grandkids. And if any of my kids read this, I know it's too soon, but I can hardly wait! Love you all.