"Waaaaa!!! Dadaaaaa!" I hear in the dark from the other room. Andy brings our little Olive into the room for the fifth night. She coughs in that high pitched, pathetic toddler cough and quickly falls asleep sandwiched safety between her Mommy and Daddy. But now I am wide awake. It's 5:30 a.m. and the sound of her precious baby snores mixed with the relatively close time to which the Packer household is awake anyway, I can't go back to sleep. So I sit there contemplating all of life's mysteries and taking in all the revelations those early morning/middle-of-the-night thoughts often bring.
I start to contemplate why every older adult with grown children feels the need to tell me in the midst of my child's in-store melt down that I'm gonna miss this. Sure, I think, I'll miss kissing squishy toddler cheeks and baby laughs, but this? Nope, definitely not gonna miss this. But then I start to think about life in 20 years.
I think about the noise levels in the house replaced with the sound of traffic driving by and clocks I didn't know ticked. Bathroom counters that don't have toothpaste smeared all over them the day after I clean them. Jars of peanut butter and jelly that last months instead of weeks. Meals free from indigestion. Quiet car rides. Times of reflection and prayer in the pew before service and listening to whole sermons instead of teaching the older kids how to follow along in the service, and teaching toddlers how to not be little screaming monkeys. A calendar free from weekly doctor's appointments, scheduled activities, and school assignments due...
I start to think I must be crazy as an overwhelming feeling of sorrow takes over my sleep-deprived body. Because in that moment, I realize I really am gonna miss all of that. The same crazy sounds that come out of my house and make me thankful I don't have any neighbors in a 10 acre radius, are actually a comfort to me. The toothpaste on the counters and never-ending mess are the beautiful signs of growing life in my house.
Someday, long gone will be the days of baby smiles, toddler belly-laughs, funny handshakes between sisters (including "booty-bumps"), and the wide-eyed wonderment of learning new things. There's only one "first time," you know. The first time they carve a pumpkin or feel the disappointment of reading a book and then watching the movie. The heartbreak of watching them fail and the pride in the triumphs that come from those failures.
We are blessed, fellow parents. God did not lie when he called children a blessing. We are taking part in one of life's greatest gifts. And it's hard. It's hard because God uses these little munchkins to drive and mold the selfishness right out of us. He gives us glimpses of our own stubbornness and hardheartedness. But He also gives us joy. A joy incomparable to anything else in this life.
So yes, I'm gonna miss this. And I pray God would grant me the time on this earth to get to see it from a whole other point of view: grandchildren.
