Little Valentine.
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We have been living in a cocoon of warmth and love during these past 12 weeks. I have been slow with things. I have been healing, resting, snuggling and mostly content with keeping that on repeat. Every few days or so I get the inkling to get out, go to Target for toilet paper, grab a matcha latte - so I do. But I am always hungry to return home and cozy up again. This little boy really has my heart. Really really. They all do.
This season isn’t forever. I am really enjoying it for what it is, because my Rhys guy is already growing a lot. It’s happening so fast this time, so I am slowing my steps around the house, pouring an extra mug of hot coffee, and trying to take stock in the seemingly mundane moments. Just today, he already feels heftier than yesterday. Those 3am feedings are weighing heavy on my sleep deprivation and heavy in his limbs. Blessed chunky thighs. The very both of us.
My dad told me something wonderful the other day. He called me to say hi, and asked how I was doing, to which I replied kind of sarcastically, "Oh you know, just cleaning and diapering and feeding all the people over here. Being really glamorous.” And he said, “Kristen - real life isn’t glamorous. Always remember that.”
It really struck me.
It struck me because, while I really like what I’m doing with my time, I also find myself frustrated with what I’m doing with my time. Hear me - I love being a mom. I was made for this. But sometimes I get in my head that I’m not doing enough, accomplishing enough, contributing enough or changing the world enough. I’m not building a career or making a noticeable rippling effect, not challenging the conventional or using my mind to solve major problems. I’m, you know, scrubbing dishes and doing endless loads of laundry (so much laundry!) It’s mundane. It’s not glamorous. It’s these visceral things that make our life go round, but it isn’t really fun. It certainly isn’t sexy. There is no employee or the month around here, no recognition for these alone hours I spend building a home life. Please hear me - Stevie is incredibly kind and affirming to me and what I do for our family. I’m not feeling resentful at all. I’m not complaining or seeking sympathy - but this is something that all moms feel, surely. Whether you are working in the home or outside of the home, we moms are working more hours than anyone ever sees or knows.
And even though I feel these things, I also feel a tremendous, overarching amount of love in what I do. Being a woman is so complex. There are so many feelings!
I remind myself - my career right now is my family. I’m changing the world by loving on these goofy maniac boys, disciplining them and pouring into them, shepherding their hearts. Asking them questions. Asking them what they think about something, before telling them what I think. I’m solving major problems by teaching them to solve their own, like how to get dressed by themselves (Daxton) or how to finish up the LEGO dinosaur (Everett). I’m making a rippling effect because their life is being formed bit by bit everyday, in the moments that I try to exemplify righteously and the moments I least expect them to learn from. Those moments when Stevie and I have a misunderstanding or disagreement - they’re watching. The moments when traffic is heavy (ugh, Atlanta) and I’m frustrated - they’re learning from me. My love is permeating in the intentional things I’m aware that I’m doing, “Let’s read a book! Let’s do a puzzle!” and the unintentional, like when I’m on my phone and one of them is trying to tell me a story about their day.
I’m not perfect. This isn’t glamorous. Sometimes this isn’t fun at all.
But the love I feel for my family is powerful. When I dig in, and get over my me-me-me rant that sometimes takes over, just for a bit, I remember why I am doing this. This love thing. It’s so vibrant, so big. It’s pulsing in my chest, motivating my every step, encouraging my heart to lean in further. Guiding my words. This unglamorous kind of love.
This is the kind of love that is encircling my mind today, as we celebrate Valentines Day. It’s more than a romance for me in my current state of life - it’s the surrender, the sacrifice, the very most un-glamorous love. Tonight, Stevie and I will sink onto the couch and eat a home-cooked something and watch a funny-something on Netflix to celebrate this day, after the 3 boys have been hastily put to bed. They will undoubtedly come out of their rooms several times, “needing water” or another snuggle, or asking what show we are watching, trying to sneak a peek. Then the baby monitor will go off, and Rhys will be hungry again. Then we will clean the kitchen, and it will be so romantic. You know, with kitchen gloves on and scrubbing bubbles and dancing around the downstairs with the Dyson. Then we will crawl into bed, too exhausted for anything more than just this. It won’t be glamorous. It just won’t be. But it also won’t be forever. We are certainly “in it” but this is the kind of love that I’m so grateful for, so appreciative of. The kind of love that is really a dream come true, even if I’m not really dreaming at all because who actually sleeps with a newborn?
Real love isn’t glamorous, but gosh, it is so, so SO good.
