When Big Things Change, the Little Things Become the Big Things

Honesty time: Yesterday morning was a rough one.

I'm not talking spilling a coffee or blow-out diaper rough, I'm talking my eldest had three "talkings to" before I even swung my legs over the bed to put my feet on the floor rough.

Her fourth talking to happened in our master bathroom.

Hand on hips, I looked at this wildflower whose behavior would have made Junie B. Jones wince and asked, "What is going on today?! What is the matter!?"

Although she stifled her lip quiver, her big doe eyes started to fill as she stammered, "I'm just so worried there won't be any candy in the Easter Eggs this year!"

I melted.

It wasn't about the eggs.

It was about everything else.

Our world has completely changed in the past two weeks. Things that we didn't think were possible happened and things we kept repeating to ourselves would happen didn't. It's been a climate of uncertainty, stress, and fear.

The daily routine of families has been completely upended. Schools are closed. Distance learning has started. Parents are working from home. Some, not at all anymore. Shopping trips now feel like scrambling to get wartime rations for your troops, and every surface, every air particle, has the threat of disease.

Through it all, my family has been blessed. Our routine hasn't changed that much since we already homeschool and my husband, as a police officer, has been working relatively normal hours. We are grateful for his stable employment.

This of course, is from my perspective, that my life experience has given me.

I realized this morning, my daughter has not been given this perspective yet.

I haven't tried to hide things from her. We talk openly about the "big sickness" in the country and how the zoo, Bounce Town, Children's Museum, Art Museum, etc. are all closed. She knows gymnastics and dance are closed as well, so people can stay healthy. She now understands that her favorite playground is closed and that the Nature Center and library are also closed and suspending programs.

To me, these are just procedural closings, and I know everything will eventually reopen and be okay, and we won't have to worry as much about illness.

I started to try to look at things in her way.

Her little world has been shaken. We can no longer go to her favorite gymnastics and dance class. Her favorite museums and fun spots are closed. We have to be careful when going to the grocery store, and there is now a threat that what we need might not be there.

More recently, she figured out that the annual neighborhood Easter Egg Hunt would probably be cancelled too. I assured her that we could make our own in the yard, and she seemed happy with it on the surface, but now I know she's worried.

This is a girl with a memory that lasts longer than the shelf life of Spam. She still reminds Daddy that he blocked the car in the garage with his cruiser when we went to the hospital to have Josie and how mad she was at him. Traditions and memories mean so much to this girl.

When Big Things Change, the Little Things Become the Big Things

It wasn't about the eggs. It was about all the changes in our lives and our world that had been weighing on her heart and mind.

Reflecting on my own actions, I realized I'd become over-absorbed of keeping us in survival mode in this new dystopia that I'd been skipping out on the little things. 

I saw that I needed to stop doing this entirely. Her little things are now her big things. Whether it's those extra long morning cuddles, special walks with just her and me, or giving her more opportunities to help in the kitchen, I needed to make sure I didn't lose my focus on my most important job while the worries of the world took my attention elsewhere.

I need to make sure, especially now, that all of my children feel loved, safe, and secure. As the big things change, I need to find a way to keep the little things the same as much as possible. 

I might not always do the best job at this with my own worries going on overdrive right now, and I'm going to give myself grace on this one, but you better believe that when we do our Easter Egg Hunt, there's going to be candy in those eggs!

I Wipe the Butts: and Other Glamorous Escapades of a SAHM

I wipe the butts.
I clean the floor of pee puddles from missed targets.
I pull up the pants and change the ones that have dribbles on them.
I refill the diaper genie.
I scrub off the stray smudge.
I change the toilet paper.

I catch the vomit in my hand.
I am the human handkerchief.
I rub the sick tummies.
I pull back the long, curly, hair.
I mop up the floor and Lysol the rooms.

I make the food.
I dish it onto the plates.
I negotiate the amounts that must be consumed.
I fill the bottles.
I clean up the spilled milk.
I wipe the faces and the tiny fingers.
I collect the food gunk from the high chair.
I rinse the dishes.
I sweep the floor.

I find the piles of clothes, gather them up, and toss them into the laundry.
I fold.
I fold.
I fold.
I wonder how three tiny people can amass so much fabric.
I put away the clothes only to discover the hamper full again.

I pick up the toys.
I find them when tears well up.
I toss the McDonald's ones 3 days after the Happy Meal is eaten.
I am the keeper of Mary, the Jellyfish, and both trains.
I put them in their bins only to see them spilled again.

I break up the fights.
I listen to both sides.
I decide a verdict.
I mandate the apologies and the time outs.
I tear them off each other again.
I send them to naps.

I clean the faces.
I hose off the gunk from the hands.
I scrub the hair.
I rinse and repeat.
I towel dry.
I sop up the bath overflow.
I pick up the discarded towel and hang it up.
I brush the hair and braid it.

I ring the alarm to say day is done.
I squeeze on the jammies.
I read the stories.
I check that the closet is monster free.
I comfort the one still worried about monsters.
I pray and sing and say goodnight.

I plan the meals.
I write out the lessons.
I clean up the kitchen.
I load up the laundry.
I throw a soap pod in the dishwasher.
I turn out the light.

I wipe the butts.

I welcome the little arms that wrap around my neck.
I make eye contact to the smiles that light up.
I give hugs that melt away the worries.
I kiss the boo-boos and wipe the tears.
I hold the hands of the tiny chubby fingers whose feet are taking their first steps.

I watch the coloring.
I listen to the reading.
I marvel at the world they see.
I make the good mac and cheese and pick up the pizza on Tuesdays.
I blow the bubbles.
I bake the favorite cookies, gooey chocolate chip.

I make the voices of the book characters.
I cuddle the little bodies that snuggle close to me as they crunch the warm popcorn.
I listen to the stories.
I stroke the hair.
I compliment the good deeds.
I watch them grow.

I repeat the babble, to hear more babble
I cheer a new accomplishment.
I take the pictures of the memories we make.
I lift the chins.

I sing the Disney songs.
I find them on my phone again.
I dance in circles.

I ask "How big is Josie?"
I run with them to the park.
I hold steady the handlebars on a first bike ride.
I pack the waffles and sometimes I add the cream with sprinkles.
I push the swings.
I spot the climbers.
I lift the little one whose hands beg, "Up!"
I stroke their quiet faces as their breathing slows and they finally drift off to sleep.

I thank God for putting me into this life I live, because even though I wipe the butts, I am here to do SO MUCH MORE and be SO MUCH MORE for my littles.