The Evidence

Take one step inside my house, and there's no question it's a house full of kids.  Most of the time it's really obvious, as the evidence looks something like this:

But if you look a little harder, you might find evidence that looks more like this: 

Some days all I do is clean up after my kids--or harder still--try to get them to clean up after themselves.  Those days, when perspective is dimmed by the din, a whale in the flowers is just another frustration.  Being a mom of young kids is a crazy job that's more than full-time. It's just more than one person can really handle and stay completely sane, clean and happy the whole time (Abraham just came in yelling, "Ben is stuck in the tree again!"). I try to remind myself that on the timeline of life, no matter how long you live, the season of having very young children is a short one.

   

And that a toy in the cupboard is a surprise friend.

And that soon enough I won't have little boys in rain boots and underwear running around outside.

If I can remember the present, and how fleeting this stage of sweet littleness is, I can laugh more often and love more easily.