Motherhood, not for the faint-hearted.

My kids were all out on the roof the other night.  It wasn't the first time.  And it likely won't be the last.  Even more recently, I found one of my children tapping on her sisters' window while perched on the roof line just beneath the second floor windows.  Now, I think some things warrant punishment - but some things are just so outrageous that a mere warning should suffice in the persuasion department.  Warning:  Kids who play on roofs may fall and crack their heads open (or worse).  You would think that the threat of death (and hooray, I wouldn't even have to inflict it in this case) would be enough of a deterrent.  Nope.  Not my kids.  Apparently, the thrill is worth it.  And obedience is optional, which, technically, it is, but I certainly don't want them to know that!

This is just one example of the ways my kids like to satisfy their curiosity, or get their thrills, or defy my instructions (a thrill in and of itself, apparently).  I'd love to get inside their little brains and figure out how all of this seems to make sense in there, when it is so obviously a bad idea (understatement). 

It takes grit to put all one's energy into the raising of children day in and day out.  Most of the time I'm inspired by the cause, confident that my efforts are paying off in eternal dividends, even though my kids some days don't give me a shred of evidence that they're gonna turn out all right.  And other days I lay back and dream about the wonderful people my children will become (and are becoming). 

I sat down recently to make Rachel's birthday book for kindergarten - basically a book of pictures of her at different stages of life with captions beneath each snapshot.  I found some gems like this:

And this:

And then this(which is actually Eve, so it didn't turn up in the book):

I could literally feel those years wash over me, the fatigue of sleepless nights followed by endless days, the complete bewilderment at the constant mess and the untimely tantrums, the wondering if I was going to be stuck in this phase forever.  And ever.  And, in the same breath, the adoration of tiny toes, and chubby cheeks, and sweet-smelling necks to nuzzle.  The unreserved affection, the peals of baby giggles, the comfort of a constant companion.

And all of sudden I'm not in that phase anymore.  And it breaks my heart just a little.  What a roller-coaster this whole motherhood thing is.  Just when you get something down, you've graduated to the next phase, not fully able to bask in the glory of it all.  Perhaps the speed at which children graduate from one stage to the next is a bit of a blessing, one that lends perspective, and paints those moments of being in the trenches in a lovely rose-colored hue, reminding us to soak in each and every experience before it passes.  

(P.S. I wrote most of this post earlier, unable to finish and now that it's days later, my desired conclusion is gone from me, so I'm just going to leave it at that.)

Love my kids.  Love motherhood.