Every time I venture out into the big, wide world on my own with my 4 year old, 2 year old, and new baby in tow, I’m bound to hear, at least once, “Wow! You sure have your hands full!” This is never said (I don’t think) maliciously; it’s usually the checker at the grocery store or the elderly person getting into the car next to my overflowing minivan, but to me, it seems to carry a negative connotation. Usually, when these words are spoken, I’m trying to just survive, get through the shopping trip without a major meltdown or mess, and get home. So my frazzled response is a quick smile or a half nod and a, “Yep!” But what I really want to say, and what I SHOULD say, to these well-meaning strangers, is, “Yes. My hands are full. But so is my heart.”
Today was one of those days. My husband is working full-time at his job, and also full-time in a phD program. It’s finals week, so he’s up to his eyeballs in stress and papers. I knew I’d be going it alone today, all day, but with a fussy baby who hasn’t pooped in days and is less-than-happy with his little world, he wanted nothing but mama’s arms. Of course, the older two still demanded to be fed three times and cared for in other ways (haha!), and by 6pm, I found myself sitting in the rocking chair in our TV room holding the baby with the older two kids eating their dinner in front of the TV (something I swore I’d never do). Ha! It was survival time, and I wasn’t proud, but hey- they were all nourished, so I called it a win.
Dinner time was winding down but there were still a few minutes left in the show, and my 4 year old stood up from the table and came over to me. He said, “Mama, can I sit in your lap?” He’s getting bigger and these moments are fewer and farther between, so I immediately replied, “Of course, baby, hop up.” He looked at me, and at his baby brother in my arms, and said, “But there isn’t room.” I shuffled the baby to my hip, and scooped up my big boy with my other arm, and said, “Baby, there will always be room for you.”
But as my five-year-old-in-two-months sprawled out on my left leg, and his feet nearly reached the ground, and his head rested right up against my head, I realized, there almost WASN’T room! My mind instantly flashed forward to a time when he WOULD be too big to crawl up in my lap, and- worse still- wouldn’t even want to. I shook my head to shake away such awful thoughts, and held on to both of my boys just a little bit tighter. The mindless child’s show played on in front of me, but honestly, I don’t even know what it was. I was just trying to keep my big boy precariously balanced on my leg and my baby boy from getting squished (or awoken, which would bring my beautiful moment to an end very quickly). My leg was starting to go numb, but I was happy.
And then my sweet little two year old came walking over, covered in ketchup and chocolate sauce. (Don’t judge! Survival, remember?) I should have walked her to the bathroom and washed her up, but considering I was already covered in spit-up, paint, ketchup, and spilled juice, what did a little more really matter? She looked at me with those big brown eyes and said, “Up, mama.”
Well, this was gonna be a challenge. But hey, I’d rocked it so far, so I knew I could throw one more into the mix. But with one arm corralling my four year old in, and the other arm cradling my infant, I didn’t have a lot of options. “Jump, baby!” I directed. And jump, she did.
So now I had three little bodies snuggled onto my lap. Over 90 pounds of human was slowly squishing me, and my lap was so very full. Overfull, really. And my arms were full. Quite literally. But so were my eyes, because in this hormone-crazy, zombie like state of newborndom, tears come much more easily than normal for me. Tears of pride, tears of exhaustion, tears of happiness. At that moment, they were tears of love. Tears of joy. Tears of gratitude and tears of relief. And my heart was so very, very full. Full of the love I have exploding out of me for those three little bodies sitting there, squished, on my lap. There won’t always be room for all three of them to sit on my lap, but there will ALWAYS be room for all three of them in my heart.
So if you see me walking through the aisle at the grocery store, pushing the stroller in one hand, holding a toddler on one hip, and chasing my four year old down the toy aisle, YES- my hands are full. But so is my life. And so is my heart.
travelingmamabear 