These Days

If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times. "Don't put your feet on me!" If there is one thing that makes my skin crawl it's another person's feet on me. I don't care if they are my own flesh and blood, I don't want Jacob, Kaylen or Marlee to do it. And if their cold, clammy feet touch me along with a toenail, it's over. OVER. I make exception for Livie only, and that's only because her feet are still cute and don't touch the floor ever. Her day will come too.

For some reason, this "No Feet on Mom" rule is harder for some to remember than others. Kaylen does it just because she loves to get a rise out of me. Marlee does it because she's a clodhopper. Jacob does it because he is a compulsive hugger, kisser, and cold clammy feet toucher. And it makes me crazy. 

Speaking of crazy, yesterday I went to the grocery store with all of my kids. Ten days post partum and I'm grocery shopping. But with all these mouths to feed, when you run out of bread, well, what else am I going to put the peanut butter and jelly on? I feel sure even the best of eaters would turn up their nose at a peanut butter and jelly tortilla. Or a peanut butter and jelly garlic bread slice. Because had I not gone yesterday, that would have been their options. 

Turning on the second isle following my usual grocery store route, we came upon a little old lady who was standing directly in front of the boxes of spaghetti I wanted to put in my cart. She was absolutely delighted with my cart full of kids and mesmerized by the baby that I had tightly wrapped against my chest. She went from child to child, speaking to them, asking their names and introducing herself as Betty. Sweet Betty. 

Although I had promised my kids a quick trip to the grocery store, and my brain said to grab the pasta and run, my heart told me that I had plenty of time to stop and share my beautiful kids with this lady who was so happy to see them. She admired their pretty blue eyes, she raved over Marlee's curls and she hugged and kissed them whispering, "I love you so much!" into their ears. 

Betty pulled out a picture of her grandchildren to show me. How proud she was of them! She told me their ages, their names and I took my turn admiring her beautiful family. Then she showed me a picture of her husband who had passed away. "I just can't get over it," she looked at me with watery blue eyes. Sad, sad eyes.
She had spent sixty years with this man, and it wasn't enough. 

In a moment, I was a frustrated mom with my kids clomping, tromping and freezing me with their feet. And in the next, I was a lonely old lady grocery shopping for one. My happy life wrapped in the worn packaging of the envelope of photos inside my purse. 

The lesson here is two-fold. First, be mindful that time is precious and it never stops. The clock winds round and round, without ceasing. And whether you get six more years or sixty, it will never be enough. So, love deeply and well. Take lots of pictures. Spend as much time together as you can. Put down your phone and make it count.

The second lesson is for parents. Share your kids with the elderly. Let them give and get hugs from little old ladies in the grocery store. Let the sweet grandpa's shake hands with your boys and admire your pretty girls. Take time to stop and fill those lonely hearts with childish love. Show your children how important it is to listen to these wise men and ladies and to show compassion for them too. You always have time for that.

I promise, as you finally grab your box of pasta and head to the next aisle, you will leave Betty with a full heart once more and a smile on her face. And you know what? Suddenly those cold, clammy toes will bother you a little less, you will hug a little tighter. You will stare at that baby's face longer. You will kiss those sweet cheeks more often. Your mom heart will be refreshed with the reminder of the precious days that still belong to you.