A Day in the Life of... Assignment: Mom
Welcome to our new series here at 'A Beautiful Alarm' -- A Day in the Life Of.
First up we have Carolyn Moore from Assignment: Mom. I initially got to know Carolyn through her writing at Her View From Home, writing that blows me away with her strong emotion and beautifully strung words.
Read on for a look into her day with four littles and how she chooses to see joy in the every day moments.
I’m brushing my teeth with a baby on my hip.
Admittedly, it’s not amazing dental hygiene strategy since my 9-month-old daughter has reached the “grabby” stage. She lunges for anything that passes within a one-foot radius of her compact little body—and with surprising accuracy. Not such great news for the daily efforts to fight plaque.
But, if anything sums up the season of life I’m in now, it’s this inability to brush my teeth under my own power.
I used to take it for granted, doing things like getting dressed or going to the bathroom solo. But then, I had four kids—and those tasks shifted permanently over to the “group activities” column.
The funny thing is it doesn’t phase me anymore.
My preschooler wanders in just then, having lost interest in the morning’s episode of Daniel Tiger I’d parked her in front of while I tried to get ready for the day ahead. “I’m hungry,” she announces, signaling it’s time to transition to the next group activity of the day: mealtime.
My two youngest daughters and I go through the bulk of our day together like this while our “big kids” are busy at school. We move as a pack: where I go, they go, sometimes balancing on my hip, sometimes nipping at my toes like an excited puppy.
But even as we’re living these moments, I can feel how quickly they’re disappearing. In another month or two, the baby on my hip will be toddling after anything and everything within her sight. She’ll clamor to get down from my arms and explore her widening world every chance she gets.
It’s why I secretly delight in my aching left arm that sometimes goes numb from the constant weight of her.
That preschooler will be running eagerly ahead of me into a classroom and the next stage of her childhood in the coming weeks. She’ll need me less and less to do thankless tasks like wiping her little bottom or pouring her apple juice as she grows more independent and self-assured.
It’s why serving her now in the little moments feels big and important.
This morning, with a baby on my hip and a toddler on my heels, when viewed from the outside may seem mundane. But this morning—this season of doing the foundational work of love I want these children to be sure of the rest of their lives—is the sweet spot of my life.