Just
an hour ago all I could think about was putting the three chickadees to bed
early after a fun-filled day centered around their ballet recital. While it was
good day, it was not what I’d call “relaxing.” My alarm went off at 6:15 this
morning to start getting myself showered and dressed and nurse the baby so that
at 7am I could start getting both the big girls ready for the recital, which
involved lots of complaining as I pulled their hair into tight buns on top of
their heads, reminding them 120 times to “sit still” to get their makeup on,
and putting trying to wriggle them into tights and hear the never-ending
whining about how itchy they are.
There was a full-length rehearsal in the morning and then the performance in the afternoon so we drove back and forth across town twice. They both did a wonderful job at the recital, and Thad and I, along with all our other family members and friends who attended, couldn’t have been more proud. But, after dinner, I was just plain beat, and could think of nothing other than a warm bath or vegging in front of the TV with a glass of iced tea. I just wanted some “me” time.
Right after I finished feeding Norah, Gabrielle came into the nursery and said quietly, while looking down at her feet, “Mommy, I need to talk to you.” After laying Norah down in our room, I came back to the nursery and asked her “Honey what is it” (thinking this was another stall tactic to delay bedtime). When she looked up, it was obvious that she had been in deep 6-year-old thought, and she burst into tears and sobbed to me “I just wish our family could be together forever.” I asked her what she meant and she explained between sobs “I know heaven is good, and we all have to go, but I’m sad that I won’t be with you forever.” You could tell this had been bothering her for a while, and really tugged at her heart.
I, of course, started crying at this point too because I didn’t have words to comfort her and the thought of ever not being with my girls strikes an emotion I don’t like being in touch with. She explained that she knew that when people go to heaven (like Grandpa Jack) they can look down on us and live in our hearts but she would be so sad if she couldn’t see or cuddle us anymore. Then she started again (this has been a topic brought up a lot lately) talking about how she knew Summer would go to heaven before the rest of us and she didn’t know how she could ever say goodbye to her life-long (canine) friend.
I explained to her that the most important thing is the memories we make while we all are here on earth together, because no one can take those memories away from us. I also told her we would be together for a very long time, I was sure. She wondered why God has family members go to heaven at different times instead of letting us all go at once. She said she wished we could wait until Norah was bigger and all hold hands and go to heaven together.
While I didn’t have solid answers for her, and really REALLY wished I was better versed in scripture, I sat her on my lap in the rocking chair in Norah’s nursery (which was Gabrielle’s when she was a baby), and rocked her, and we talked, and both cried, and cuddled. I told her how much I love her and how proud I am of her being a big sister and what a kind, sweet child she is. She told me that she remembers when she was a baby meeting me for the first time and “when I looked up and saw you Mommy, I thought you were perfect.”
I do a lot of complaining lately with all the demands of two little girls and a 10 week old princess. But tonight I have the wind knocked out of me in a big way. I. AM. SO. BLESSED. Beyond measure. There is not a spare moment of sanity around our household lately. Between midnight feedings with Norah, and the general madness of raising three little girls…there is nothing…NOTHING as sweet as being told how happy your child is to have you as a mommy and be a part of this family. This blog entry didn’t do the moment justice, but I needed to do my best to capture it. I could not have asked for a more precious Mother’s Day gift.
There was a full-length rehearsal in the morning and then the performance in the afternoon so we drove back and forth across town twice. They both did a wonderful job at the recital, and Thad and I, along with all our other family members and friends who attended, couldn’t have been more proud. But, after dinner, I was just plain beat, and could think of nothing other than a warm bath or vegging in front of the TV with a glass of iced tea. I just wanted some “me” time.
Right after I finished feeding Norah, Gabrielle came into the nursery and said quietly, while looking down at her feet, “Mommy, I need to talk to you.” After laying Norah down in our room, I came back to the nursery and asked her “Honey what is it” (thinking this was another stall tactic to delay bedtime). When she looked up, it was obvious that she had been in deep 6-year-old thought, and she burst into tears and sobbed to me “I just wish our family could be together forever.” I asked her what she meant and she explained between sobs “I know heaven is good, and we all have to go, but I’m sad that I won’t be with you forever.” You could tell this had been bothering her for a while, and really tugged at her heart.
I, of course, started crying at this point too because I didn’t have words to comfort her and the thought of ever not being with my girls strikes an emotion I don’t like being in touch with. She explained that she knew that when people go to heaven (like Grandpa Jack) they can look down on us and live in our hearts but she would be so sad if she couldn’t see or cuddle us anymore. Then she started again (this has been a topic brought up a lot lately) talking about how she knew Summer would go to heaven before the rest of us and she didn’t know how she could ever say goodbye to her life-long (canine) friend.
I explained to her that the most important thing is the memories we make while we all are here on earth together, because no one can take those memories away from us. I also told her we would be together for a very long time, I was sure. She wondered why God has family members go to heaven at different times instead of letting us all go at once. She said she wished we could wait until Norah was bigger and all hold hands and go to heaven together.
While I didn’t have solid answers for her, and really REALLY wished I was better versed in scripture, I sat her on my lap in the rocking chair in Norah’s nursery (which was Gabrielle’s when she was a baby), and rocked her, and we talked, and both cried, and cuddled. I told her how much I love her and how proud I am of her being a big sister and what a kind, sweet child she is. She told me that she remembers when she was a baby meeting me for the first time and “when I looked up and saw you Mommy, I thought you were perfect.”
I do a lot of complaining lately with all the demands of two little girls and a 10 week old princess. But tonight I have the wind knocked out of me in a big way. I. AM. SO. BLESSED. Beyond measure. There is not a spare moment of sanity around our household lately. Between midnight feedings with Norah, and the general madness of raising three little girls…there is nothing…NOTHING as sweet as being told how happy your child is to have you as a mommy and be a part of this family. This blog entry didn’t do the moment justice, but I needed to do my best to capture it. I could not have asked for a more precious Mother’s Day gift.
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