Feeling Contemplative. I think.

The house is clean, the laundry (that I am ignoring on the sofa) smells good, and the three youngest are watching some afternoon tv while their big sister and dad are off gallivanting in Atlanta for 2 days. Because we are down a couple people, every mom knows instinctively that I am not cooking, right? (Although, it dawns on me that even 2 people down I would be cooking for more people than my mom cooked for when everyone was home.) So I am perusing the internets, enjoying a quiet moment in my life. I think the combination of downtime, the time of year (almost a new one upon us!), and some of what I have read is making me think about things a bit. Also, some of the circumstances in our life probably.

See, sometime over the last month, apparently my last child/"baby" has become potty trained. And when I realized that, brace yourself and please hear me out after this statement, I was sad. I know, this seems crazy to me as well. But just a few months ago this fall, he started preschool 2 days a week. And 2 weeks ago, Ryah Layne turned 5. FIVE. Granted, she still looks 3, but the truth remains that she is not a preschooler any more. She also attends preK 4 mornings a week at the same school Adon does. And in 3 months, Kharis will turn 10. TEN. Finally, a month ago, I turned 35. All of these are markers I guess of some sort. How this has all happened when I was sleeping, I do not know. But it all adds up to one thing, and I think that is what is giving me trouble defining my feelings.

My children are growing up. I am growing older. I am no longer a mom to a bunch of "littles" as I have been for basically 10 years.

Hmmm.

I guess, after 10 years at it, I more or less know how to be and do this. I know what it will require, on a good day and a bad day, and though I truly fail at so much of it, I guess after failing enough times you become somewhat immune to the distress of failure. (This, btw, is NOT a good thing.) So as a result, there is far less fear and trepidation. Turmoil internally. And, because I know nothing if not how to get to a manageable level of "good enough" wherever I am, obviously over 10 years I have learned some lessons and skills that have made me better at "this" than I was 10 years ago. (If you know me, of course, you know full well that the emphasis in that phrase that has "guided" me  though the years is far more on the 'enough' than the 'good.' Sigh.)

But the next stage?

That is entirely new.

I do NOT know what that will require of me. I do NOT know how bad or good I will be at it. I do NOT know how I will feel about myself and my family in that new stage.

Sometimes, I think to myself, If I am not "producing" babies and actively caring for them 24/7, what I am actually contributing?

I know that sounds silly. When I was typing it, it sounds even more so. When I have thought it I was surprised by it. But regardless, the thought has crossed my mind.

How do I feel about being an "older" woman? How do I feel about my kids being far more self sufficient? How do I feel about being more, shall we say, on the margin?

It's a weird, new feeling. One I am still working through. There are of course lots of up sides here. I did NOT cry when we threw away the diaper genie that sat outside on our garage landing to greet us with a simply delightful scent every time we came home or left the house. I do NOT cry on Tuesday and Thursday mornings when for 3 blissful hours I have time to myself to go to the grocery store and the Target and the tailor and the cleaners and everywhere else that I may need to go, and also, shhh, please don't tell anyone, but sometimes just to sit by myself somewhere quiet and read or meet a friend for coffee without having to chase someone or call someone down or be interrupted 986 times in the first 10 minutes! And JD and I definitely do not cry when we can tell the girls, at least, to go get themselves ready and in bed and we will be up to kiss them and read the bible in a few and they actually go do it (though Allie, of course, will get sidetracked for a while. It is a law of science.) But all the good is mixed with some, ah, different, and I am just trying to figure out what that means.

Time will tell, that is what they say, right? I hope, no, I pray, desperately, that time will tell a good story. I hope if I read this when I am 50, I will have some good thoughts for my 35 year old self. We shall see what the Lord does in these next 10-15.

I am hoping to write a little something soon about my little Ryah Layne's fifth birthday and about who she is these days (something I wish I'd had the blog for when Kharis and Allie turned 5!) but as you know, with me there are no guarantees, because I am a bad blogger. In fact, I think bad does not do it justice, but we will leave it at that for today.

DA-DA!

That title is in honor of my third and fourth borns who have both been (JAG most recently has been doing it and MELT MY HEART!) through a stage of doing wild things or crazy things and standing up with a smile and arms out to proclaim "Ta-da!" only they say dada and it is one-of-my-favorite-things-ever. I blogged about Ryah Layne doing it before.  Anyway, ta-da, here I am:) Been a WHILE, ahem. But sometimes I just get overwhelmed with things I want to remember, and today was one of those days and I just thought, why don't I see if blogger has booted me off yet, and if they haven't, then I will write some things down darn it. And since blogger has been gracious, I guess I will follow through.

This week we had our first Burmese refugee family that we fostered. It was totally last minute, with World Relief, and I did not know what in the heck I was doing, and I know now that I could have done a better job if, you know, if I had ANY SORT OF PLANNING SKILLS WHATSOEVER. But I don't, and they were so gracious, and this weekend we are going to go to their new apartment and see if there is something nice we could do for them, definitely take them a nice candle or some such, so hopefully it is all okay. My children amazed me. I love those four. It was a wee bit strained for me (which is unusual) since we had some of what they call a language barrier (ha!) and if I can't talk to you  easily, apparently I clam up. On top of that, they had a certain, ahem, *smell* that for me was tough to take. I am ashamed to admit it but it is the truth. Anyhow, none of this phased my children at all. I mean, they don't speak Burmese, and the Burmese definitely do not speak English, and yet my children all happily sat and chatted away with them. How, I have no idea, but they all seemed to have no trouble communicating! My littlest two would sit on their laps, and when the big two came home from school today and found out they had left a day early while they were at school they were so bummed! They certainly weren't getting this graciousness from me. Maybe from their father. He IS a pretty gracious man I have to say. Or more likely, their heavenly father. He is the definition of grace, thank goodness.

One of my other favorite things these days is when I leave the littles at home with Sarah (the GOD-SEND who is living with us right now:)) in the morning and drive the bigs to school. We go over our favorite memory verses, I give them one for the day, or they tell my some of their favorite bible stories. If I forget, Allie will always ask me, Mom, what's our verse for today?

Oh, it's dinner time, will have to run for now, sigh. Maybe more tonight?