Earlier this week, I wrote about the extraordinary amount ofsad news I have heard this week. Since that time, I have heard even more. Last
night I wrote a list with the names of each person. There are EIGHT names on
the list. Eight heartbreaking stories for people I know. Cancer. Hospitalization.
Death. Loss. Grief. Sorrow. Infants. Children. Mothers. Fathers. I am praying
for each of those names on the list, praying for their families, and for hope.
When I sat down to write today, I was determined to produce
something lighthearted, something happy, to balance the melancholy. I have
thought about my kids, about Mother’s Day, about the upcoming summer. There
really is so much joy around me, and the most joyful part of my life is the
infectious, innocent laughter of my children.
I wanted to write a humorous ode to mothers of young
children about what we are not. We are many things, but we are not
tissues or towels or chairs or pillows. I had actually stored this idea away in
my head for a couple of weeks. It was going to be hilarious, or at least as
hilarious as I can be.
But then, last night, my daughter used me as a towel. On
purpose. Her cup leaked, and instead of reaching for the towel that was right next to her, she walked across
the room and wiped it on my arm.
She had that look on her face. She was trying to conceal her smile, trying in vain not to laugh. But, laugh she did. At first, only a tiny giggle escaped, and she watched me cautiously to see how I would react.
I couldn't help but grin back at her mischievousness, and
just the start of my accepting smile was all it took to set her off. She
erupted into laughter, the absolute best {from the bottom of your belly} kind
of laughter. We laughed together. She ran to the bathroom sink to wet her hands
again and returned for another round. She (literally) rinsed and repeated
several times, without a single break in her hearty laughter.
It’s true that most days I do not want to be a tissue or
towel. That’s what they make actual tissues and towels for, right? But
sometimes that’s just the way it goes with small children. And sometimes it can
be exactly what a mom’s heart needs … ridiculous, light hearted, innocent fun.
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