Monday, March 19, 2012

Helping Hands.

I guess with all these writings looking like I totally have it all together (I do, right?!?), I will take this very much needed opportunity to tell everyone just how many pieces to my motherhood puzzle are missing. I am picking up fractions of pictures that look like they came from a different box altogether.
But I learned something yesterday. Something invaluable. Most people will probably think me ridiculous for not seeing this earlier or maybe I should have known from how many books I have (obviously) read about being super mom. Maybe I missed it on Pinterest or something...but here it goes.
Instead of brushing Charlee off while I am in getting-the-house-clean-as-fast-as-possible-because-guests-are-on-their-way-and-I-underestimated-how-long-everything-would-take-like-always mode, I stopped myself. She was following me saying "Mommy hold it" (meaning her). Which, by the way, is the cutest thing ever. However, when people are on their way and I have 8 million things to do, we both end up frustrated. I can't think clearly or move fast enough and for her, well...mommy's not holding it. Even typing it breaks my heart to think I have denied my child just the comfort of my arms that she so greatly desires .
So it hit me. "Charlee, do you want to help Mommy clean?" "OK!" I was wiping down the bathroom with Clorox wipes so I got some of her diaper wipes and asked her to wipe the side of the shower and the bathroom walls (which didn't need it...but what would it hurt?) The transformation in the entire situation made me literally tear up. She wiped EVERYWHERE. Evven the floors. And laughed. And beamed when I told her what a HUGE help she was. She was so excited to contribute.
Next the dishwasher. Clean dishes are things she can't wait to help me put away. And by help I mean literally pick up everything glass and drop almost immediately. So, I asked her if she would like to help. And instead of playing damage control and asking her to please stop touching so that I can do it in lightening fast speed, we put the dishes away one by one. And wouldn't you know, the whole time she said, "Chadit helping." Over and over. The change not only in her attitude of how long can I grab dishes until I get in trouble or really break one to the thought she is actually helping was something beautiful.
Lastly I had her put her diapers into her little cube where I keep them while I put away her clean clothes. They may not be in 2 pretty stacks (in a cube that no one sees), but can you possibly imagine that they are just as accessible shoved in there by a 2 year old's eager hands? They may not exactly fit right...and its definitely overflowing...but only God would have known that it would make me smile every time I reach down there to get a diaper. The evidence of a 2 year old's place in a home should be, in my mind, unhidden.
I hope one day she looks back at our slices of time together and sees the moments where we both were learning two invaluable lessons. Much needed patience from a tattered and worn momma and unknowing grace to a mind that learns faster than I can run. It's love that can't be put into pretty little rows. It's love that's eager to help and totally overflowing.