I remember it well. The long days, the sleepless nights…all the joys and struggles that go along with being a mom of small boys. As my boys grew older, my love for being a mom grew as well. I just love being a mom. It is such an incredible honor.
When my boys were little, I remember the seemingly endless job of picking up toys. I hate clutter, so when they went down for naps, I would immediately pick up the books, cars, trucks and toys that were on the floor. When they got up of course, the toys would all come out again and the cycle would start all over.
You can never really know when your last day of picking up toys off the floor will come. And I honestly don’t remember the last day that I picked up a matchbox car after stepping on it, or put the little cardboard books back on the shelf.
Since my boys are 13 and 15, there are new things I’m picking up (or reminding them to pick up) and it’s just different.
And that was it.
I was suddenly done picking up toys.
Or so I thought.
Sometimes, your plans don’t end up being what you actually thought they were going to be.
And all of a sudden, I am stepping on matchbox cars again, seeing puzzle pieces on the floor and crayons on the table.
Our foster care story started many, many years ago, and is still a story in the making, (which I will be blogging about soon) but for now, we have a 6-year-old boy in our home.
He loves to pull all the toys out, and then leave them right in the doorway.
He loves to do crafts and leave the papers and crayons on the table.
He loves to be covered up at night and then ask for water 10 minutes later.
And so even though I thought I was done picking up toys years ago, I’m suddenly right back in the middle of it.
And even though I didn’t even see this new phase of life coming, I am loving every minute of it.