Evidence of Children

We have a friend down the street who the children love to play with. Any combination of kids goes down to play at her house: Kylie and Madalyn, Spencer and Alexis, Madalyn and Thomas. Just depends on the day and who's doing what and who wants to go. Sometimes only one or two want to go, sometimes three or four. Occasionally all five want to go. Yesterday all five decided they wanted to go play with Jordan. (Bless that girl and her parents for letting 5 kids come over!) After much noise, excitement, and discussion about what to bring and running around gathering all sorts of gadgets (aka "junk") such as broken necklaces, binoculars, and cool rocks, they all went out the front door, banging it closed behind them. I watched through the window as they walked to the corner, paused to look before crossing the road, and then they skipped down the street and out of sight. I turned away from the window and noticed that the house was quiet. Too quiet. With Kaitlyn sleeping, it appeared that no children live here. Then as I was walking around and straightening up, I realized that there was evidence of our children all over. I had to take pictures of everything because to me it was sweet.

Baby toys, diaper, and paci scattered on the floor

Open bottles of paint, sticky paintbrushes, and a container of dirty water on the table.

Paint splattered on the floor and pictures set on the washing machine to dry.

A pile of clothes on the couch that resembles Ayers Rock.

Duplo houses at the top of the stairs.

A game of Monopoly spread out amongst the library books in the reading spot.

Losing Julianne and having Kaitlyn has changed my perspective a lot. Instead of looking at messes with a sigh and a groan and looking forward to having a meal without spilled milk, I now walk by the pile of wet rags on the washer and think, "Aw. That means we have children here." Such a sweet thought. Instead of being annoyed with their idiosyncrasies and annoying habits I'm trying to laugh about them and appreciate them. I'm taking mental pictures of my children's faces as they laugh when they stir so hard that the batter splats out, or are looking peaceful as they are intently reading a book, lips twitching every so often and unaware of the world around them. Evidence that we have children is all around me and I love it. Ordinarily I can't stand a messy house, but I'm trying to see the good in it. Clothes on the floor mean they aren't wearing their only outfit. A hair tie or ribbon on the floor means we have girls and that our girls have hair. Towels on the floor mean we have hot water and clean kids. Kids fighting mean our children have siblings. Books all over the house mean our kids can read and we have a library with unlimited checkouts. A stinky bathroom garbage full of diapers means we have a baby with healthy bowels. High pitched squeals mean our kids are having fun. Soggy cereal bowls mean our kids have enough food to eat or else they would have gobbled up every last drop. All of the toys we have signify they have plenty of playtime. I'm so glad we live in a time of plenty where the kids and I don't have to go to work or have unending chores on a farm with only two outfits. We're so blessed.

I love being a mother of young children so much that sometimes I think I never want to stop having kids. I always want to have little ones under my feet. I'm not sure how I'll handle them growing up and moving away. Some days I wonder what our house would look like without all of the school work on the walls. Every wall is dedicated to science, writing, art, etc. But I think I'll cry when it all gets taken down and there are no more school children in our home. I'm glad that is a long, long time away. Maybe I'll be ready by then, but I know now that I'm nowhere close. Right now I want to have babies and little children in my home forever. I want to take this moment and hold onto it for a long time and bid time to stand still while I cherish it.