What Really Matters

I have been having sleep disturbances. Maybe it is because I didn't sleep in my bed for 3 nights. Maybe it was because I slept on the wrong side of the bed. Maybe it was the fact that we still have not gotten the keys to our new house and there is so much to do and not enough time to do it. And that we had to go out of town for a work related, very cool thing but this is such a busy month. Did I mention that we still don't have our keys and we still need to paint the inside of the house, tear out carpet, have new carpet installed, possibly some new tile, replace a window, re-do some electrical work and have a little plumbing work done...all before we move in...in five days? Oh yeah, and I still need to finish packing about half of our house. And I have not mentioned on this blog that my husband works in another city and has only been home on weekends, for the past 3 months.

OH.MY.WORD!

Well, I think I just uncovered my sleep disturbance issues.

I know, I am pretty much a genius.

Anyway. I did not get on here to write about the stresses of my day, week, life. What prompted me to log in was my girl. Since I have been up since 4:30am, and since she likes to sleep on the couch, I have been watching her. I don't know if there is anything more beautiful than a sleeping child. It pretty much embodies all that is right. While I watched her, I was struck, as I often am, at how amazing she is. I often find myself caught up in the stress of being the only at-home parent she has known for most of her 2 1/2 years. I get bogged down with the responsibility of teaching her about her daddy and how much he loves her and now that he is home, could you please want to spend some time with him instead of crying and whining and wanting me to hold you all the time?? (Sorry for the glimpse into my head, just keeping it real.) But this morning, I stopped making it all about me for a minute. I stopped and really watched her. And I realized...time is fleeting. My baby... She's not a baby anymore. And toddler doesn't seem to be fitting either. She does not toddle. She runs at life, full-force. She is such a unique mix of her dad and me that it makes me smile when I think about it. And laugh a little bit.

As I had my moment, letting this sink in, a big, fat dose of reality set in:
This side of heaven, we will never get to know Baby Blues at this age. We will not get to see him crawl, or take his first steps, or utter his first words. His mama will not get to tire of hearing him call her name 842 times per minute when he feels like he is not being heard. And our arms will not ache from holding him because he is big enough that it is awkward to do so.

And then I wept.

And I still weep.

And, all of a sudden, it no longer matters that I have more things to accomplish than there are hours in the day. I am going to take the time this week to enjoy my girl and my family.

I can live with unpainted walls and dirty carpet if I have to.