Five minutes



I wake up,  I feel tired.  Desperately tired.  I would give anything for five more minutes… Times run out.  There are no more “five minutes” left.  Instead of denying the rising sun I embrace it.  Instead of hiding from my children under a cover of blankets and pillows I look them in the eyes.  I take in their little faces.

 I let love wash over me.  It’s enough.  I can take on the day, and I take off running.

Nurse Remi, gather clothes, throw a load in the wash, brush teeth, get clothes on the boys, watch Isaac go potty, Cheer for him.  Nurse Rowan, wash my face, put clothes on Isaac again ( by now he’s taken them off) . Feed the kids,  Load them into the car, rush to get the kids dropped off at the gym.  Slide into class, try to go unnoticed, I’m late.



Let gratitude wash over me.  I’m ready.  The race home begins.

Do everything I can before the first baby cries.  Unload dishes, load dishes, make lunch for boys, eat a bite, baby cries.  She needs me.  Sister cries.  She needs me too.  Isaac cries. He needs me because they need me.  I nurse Remi, while I rock Rowan with my foot and cuddle Isaac to my side.  He’s reluctantly exchanged laps for side hugs and hips for hand holds.

Panning the room my heart swells.  I feel grateful that I’m forced, every 3 hours, to sit, relax and just feed my babies, one at a time.  They are my motivation, they fill so much of my cup.  I can keep going.

More diaper changes, games played, floors cleaned, tears dried, meals made, the end of the day is near.  I can’t wait.  For just a few hours between the boys falling asleep and the girls waking up I get to be just me.  Dane and I get to be us.

I let freedom wash over me.

We watch.  We talk.  We love.  We talk some more.  I’m rejuvenated.  He is what I look forward to. We read.  We pray.  I feel peace.  I’m strengthened.  Before I drift off to sleep I think of them.  I smile.  Many hours later I awake with the girls.  Just the three of us.

 I let their littleness wash over me.  I soak in the quiet of the night and our time alone.

Tomorrow the sun will rise… much too soon and I will spend the first 15 minutes of the day fighting my body, fighting the noise, fighting the light.  But my five minutes will soon be up and when they are I’ll stop fighting and soak in the beginning.  The beginning of another day.  Another day  I don’t deserve, but am blessed to have.

Here we go.



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