Thursday, December 07, 2017

Suffering the children

My second cousin's wife and I were due around the same time, she with her seventh and I with my fifth. Alexander came a few weeks early, but Sharalee had her baby on Miriam's birthday so her baby ended up being that much younger than my baby. Somehow, however, she's managing to keep up with the Light the World calendar (and her seven children) this year and I...am so totally not.

I'm not keeping up with the calendar and I'm barely keeping up with my children.

Life has been just a little crazy lately.

On Saturday, for example, the scripture was "I was thirsty and ye gave me drink." It wasn't until I saw people posting on Facebook about donating towards clean water campaigns and delivering infant formula to their local food bank that I remembered that the Light the World calendar was even a thing. But my friend Alayna stopped by on Saturday to pick up some milk for her baby (I've been pumping for her) and I thought that was a happy coincidence. Usually she picks milk up on Friday, but she waited a day, and lo, it coincided with the scripture on the Light the World calendar. So that was fortuitous.

Other than that...I don't know that I've managed to do a single extra thing (we haven't had the children open any of the days on our advent calendars either; go our team).

But my cousin has been posting about the little ways she's trying to light the world, which I've appreciated because it helps remind me to go about my day more mindfully (she, for example, tried to remember how the Saviour fills her cup as she went about Saturday getting water for her children or nursing her baby, which is something I certainly didn't think to to do).

Anyway, earlier this week she wrote about how she'd failed to "love her neighbour." She had grand designs of making Chex Mix and delivering it to her neighbours with her children in one grand Yuletide Koombayah. But her plan for the day got completely derailed (I have no idea how that happened with seven children to take care of) and she failed to even make the Chex Mix, let alone visit with her neighbours.


My Aunt Dixie popped on to say:
[At 39], expecting a baby I was told I could never have (little did they or we know there would be 2 more [to] come), I was exhausted and not able to do normal household chores. Uncle Darrel gave me a blessing. I was sure the Lord was going to bless me to be able to do all I wanted! I was shocked when in the blessing I was told "not to run [faster than I was able]." I was doing the most important work by carrying a precious child, that is what was expected. His ways and ours are not the same. 
I had a little fun mentally picturing Aunt Dixie's shock at not getting the blessing she expected (because...Aunt Dixie). And then I decided that even though I'm not pregnant anymore I can still cut myself some slack because I have a brand new baby to love on and though the state of my house might be driving me (and probably my in-laws) crazy, the Lord probably doesn't care so much that my floors are immaculate. He'd probably rather I feed that baby and snuggle that toddler and help that pre-teen prepare to audition for the school musical (and take care of the other kids, too, I guess).

Tomorrow's scripture is to "suffer the children," so I suppose since I know that I'll try to suffer the children with a little more patience. My patience sure has been stretched thin lately. Either that or my children have been spectacular patience stretchers lately.

For example, Benjamin and Zoë tipped the pack'n'play over while I was going to the bathroom today. Alexander was inside, of course. He's fine. They tipped it back up when they saw the look of abject terror on my face. He's still fine. He's never leaving my arms again, but he's fine.

Alexander also rolled over today (for the record). I let him have some tummy time (this was before the pack'n'play incident, while Benjamin was at school and Zoë was anxiously engaged in a non-baby activity) while I threw my hair into a ponytail (I pamper myself) and when I came back to him (literally like fifteen seconds after I left him) he was on his back. So that's neat.

Early mobility really isn't a treat...because I literally can't leave my baby anywhere. Not the floor because someone will step on him. Not the bed because he'll roll off (or someone will step on him). Not the pack'n'play because apparently the kids can tip that over if they work together.

So I'm just going to hold him until he becomes a professional wrestler or something like that.

1 comment:

  1. Well. That was interesting. And also, oh my! I thought that pack'n'play was supposed to be a forcefield. Apparently not.

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