Once upon a lazy Sunday…
I used to pile up against the covers and the mountains of stacked pillows and burrow in to read the latest installments from my favorite authors. Woogie, my little wee beastie of a dog, would be cuddled up next to me, well below the blankets, with nothing but his curious black nose sticking out to greet any potential threats.
Nothing could be heard for hours, except the turning of papered pages and the not-so-gentlemanly snores from the tiny critter next to me.
It was adult life at its simplest and I miss it a great deal.
But there’s something to be said for waking up to the lyrical babbling of a baby in the crib next to you. Or anticipating his 6 year old big brother knocking on the door to say he couldn’t wait another minute to tell us good morning.
I’m honored that I’ve been blessed by our Almighty Creator in getting to watch my nephews grow into healthy and happy young men. I’m humbled by this incredible gift that my brother has given to me, long after his physical manifestation has gone from this world.
My lazy Sundays don’t always seem so lazy anymore.
Now they’re filled with diaper changes, kiddo chores, and educational learning disguised as games. They’re filled with little people hands helping me “speed” up doing dishes and packing my new little world up into the car to drive to a store or park or mall or museum. It’s full of temper tantrums and boo-boos. Of fretful doggy barks and baby wails. It’s jammed with regret and wishful thinking.
It’s a madhouse on the best of days and full of stressful blubbering on the worse. It’s nothing that I thought parenthood would be and it’s everything that I’ve begged to take on.
Life is anything but lazy anymore.
And on days when I miss those mundane moments or my heart is aching from the loss of my twin, I hold his boys a little tighter. I kiss their cheeks a little longer.
And I praise our God a little stronger.