Late night rambling

It’s the middle of the night and the rest of my family is sleeping.  It’s so strange to hear silence in this house that’s usually so full of noise.  We are a very noisy family!

We’ve all been sick this week, but especially Alex (22 months) and now me.  Daryl has been pulling all-nighters taking care of everybody and now he finally gets to get some rest.  I’m too hot and achey to sleep.  I finally gave up and eased myself out of bed and now don’t know what to do with myself.

There’s something about the middle of the night that I dearly love.  It’s the space between the chaos when I can recharge and hear my own thoughts.  I watch my children sleep and I fall in love with them again, ready to start over in a new day and fill our lives with as much as possible.  I look at their sweet features, their tiny hands, their beautiful faces, and I feel so blessed to be their mother.  It can be a noisy, messy, crazy-making life but it’s our life and deep down I love it.

I had years of quiet.  It wasn’t my thing.  😉

I’ll close with a poem I have always loved.  It reminds me of the important stuff when life is not so quiet and calm.

                            To My Grown-up Son
                            by Alice E. Chase

                          My hands were busy through the day
                          I didn’t have much time to play
                          The little games you asked me to.
                          I didn’t have much time for you.

                          I’d wash your clothes, I’d sew and cook,
                          But when you’d bring your picture book
                          And ask me, please, to share your fun,
                          I’d say, ‘A little later, son.’

                          I’d tuck you in all safe at night,
                          And hear your prayers, turn out the light,
                          Then tiptoe softly to the door.
                          I wish I’d stayed a minute more.

                          For life is short, and years rush past,
                          A little boy grows up so fast.
                          No longer is he at your side.
                          His precious secrets to confide.

                          The picture books are put away,
                          There are no children’s games to play,
                          No good night kiss, no prayers to hear.
                          That all belongs to yesteryear.

                          My hands once busy, now lie still
                          The days are long and hard to fill.
                          I wish I might go back and do
                          The little things you asked me to.