I keep thinking on this fleeting season and getting teary. 
Teary like when I start wailing at the end of "how to train your dragon" and Elias looks at Nick and says, "she's crying because of his leg again, Dad". 

But I wonder what I'll think about 12-2pm in five years. 
Will I remember it? 
Will I wish it back? 
Will I be glad it's gone? 

Every mama, well - every woman, has her hard hours of the day. For most moms, it's morning and then late afternoon/early evening - the witching hour, if you will. We have those too. 8-8:30 is a hilarious rush of legs and potty and eat your breakfast faster and no you can't take your blanket to school and please don't run out in the yard, just get in the car. Get in the car. Get in the car. Get in the car. 

But 12-2 is a different beast for me. 
I can't, or maybe I just won't, describe it in detail because it's all mundane. Even when we ask the Lord to infuse it with holy and sacred, it's still holy & sacred mundane. And that's ok. I think it's ok that two hours out of your day be maintenance and sustenance. It's like a super model - even super models need to shower and brush their teeth. 12-2pm is our super model teeth brushing session. It's the time where we pack in as much of the sustaining work that needs to get done. Dishes. No frills lunch. Pick up so that we don't have to after rest time. Preschool pickup. Even getting school bags ready for the next day. Laundry. Vacuuming. 

My point is, I know who I am from 12-2pm. 
I'm nobody special and everything to those three. 
I'm not really a friend or a blogger and truth be told, my husband is learning that if he calls during those hours, I'm not much of a wife. 
These are the hours where my back starts aching and my heart will wander towards bitterness if I give it even the slightest room to do so. 
I'm a tucker-inner. A nose-wiper. A potty-putter-onner. 
Dinner-prepper. Toddler-holder. 

But in what, three short years, my house will be foreseeably quieter from 12-2. 
And in five years, will I be visiting their schools just to see their faces? 
And in ten years, I'll be begging to make their lunch on the weekends. 
And in fifteen, oh Lord. 

So I'm gonna let 12-2 take me over. 
You can have all of me, lunch hour. 
I'll divy out the baby carrots and sweep the floor and love the heck out of this family. 
I know who you make me, 12-2, and I'll love it. 
"our life"Jessi1 Comment