Slow Dancing in the Playroom
Megan Breedlove Rarely do I read someone’s Facebook post and think, “Wow. Yes. That’s absolutely perfect.”
Recently, however, a friend of mine posted a text message his wife (also a friend) had sent him during a difficult day at home with their one-year-old son. Here it is, reproduced here with her permission:
[Our son is] miserable today btw. Like doesn’t want to play with anything. Just the toy he threw behind the couch. I can’t reach it. And then he ate a leaf and cried about it. And then I gave him three cookies, and he shoved all of them into his tiny mouth. As he chewed it, in came too much and it promptly began to flow like spraying masticated cookie goo everywhere. And now we are slow dancing in the playroom.
I bet you smiled and nodded too, as I did when I first read it. What a perfect encapsulation of life with a toddler.
Life with any child, for that matter. Sometimes everything goes wrong, incident after incident after incident. There are tears (theirs? ours?), frustration, anger, weariness, and discouragement.
But that’s not all.
Look again at my friend’s last sentence: “And now we are slow dancing in the playroom.”
What a beautiful moment that must have been. After a long, difficult day, my friend cuddled her precious son close, and they danced. Yes, she had experienced a hard day. But she also experienced love, intimacy, and beauty. And so did her son.
You’ve experienced that kind of juxtaposition, too—the crazy along with the peaceful, the good along with the bad. I’m sure you’ve run the whole gamut of emotions and experiences with your children this past year, and you’ll probably do so again in the year to come. Some events or circumstances will be pleasant and joyful; others will be sad, and still others will fall somewhere on the spectrum in between. You’ll have peaceful days, and you’ll have crazy days like my friend’s day.
But remember that the “not-so-good” or even “really bad” days aren’t all there is. You will have times of peaceful closeness with your children that bless your mother-heart in ways that are unspeakably precious.
So, yes, discipline your children when they need it; clean up their messes, or instruct them to do so; and find creative replacements for that toy they threw behind the couch. But don’t forget to make beautiful memories.
There’s always time for at least one slow dance.
Ecclesiastes 3:1—To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven. (KJV)
Sometimes, opportunities for relaxation pop up at the most unexpected times.
A month or two ago, my husband and I bought our kids a trampoline for the back yard as an early Christmas present. Since then, the kids have used the trampoline almost every day—if not every day. Timmy loves the trampoline, too. He loves bouncing, jumping, and running in circles on it, giggling in delight.
My precious daughter Lindsey is a sweet, loving girl. She wants nothing more in life than to please and encourage others and have others delight in her right back. I literally almost never have discipline problems with her (at least not the kind where she misbehaved, but knew better).
As I write, it’s only a few days until Thanksgiving. The ingredients for Thanksgiving dinner, which will take place at my house this year, sit on shelves in my freezer, refrigerator, and pantry. The special tablecloths and tableware (we’re using Thanksgiving-themed paper and plastic) rest on the floor of my closet in the plastic bags they came in from the store. The house is on its way to being holiday-clean, and the Thanksgiving tree is on the wall.
My 8-year-old daughter, Lindsey, is a kind and generous girl. She has a sweetness about her spirit that could only come from the Lord. She’s caring and compassionate, and she’s quick to reach out to those in need. Not only that, but she believes the best of everyone with whom she comes in contact.
Each year, on the day after Thanksgiving, we get out the Christmas decorations and put them all up. Long before that, I start planning what to give each person on my list. I also start marking my calendar with the dates and times of all the holiday events scheduled by groups of which I am (or some other family member is) a part. Then, in December, I or we attend all those events. But wait…there’s more! There’s all the wrapping of presents, baking holiday goodies, and planning and packing for getting to Grandma and Pampa’s house before December 25th.
I am not domestically inclined. Keeping house has never been my “thing.” The meals I put on the table are serviceable, but they’re certainly not gourmet. I buy my children’s clothes once they’ve been made by somebody else; the last garment I made was a pair of sweat pants, which I made in home economics in 8th grade (it was a required course), for which I got a C. My kids will never confuse me with Martha Stewart or Betty Crocker (that’s their grandmother).
Sunday morning, when I got up, I found this note on an index card stuck in my bathroom mirror:
Watching and helping Kenny grow has been an incredible adventure. It hasn’t always been easy, though. From the beginning, Kenny has had some developmental delays as well as other issues that prevented his growing on the steadily upward trajectory I’d always assumed my children would follow.
It’s been a little more than ten years since I gave birth to Kenny. In those ten years, he’s grown incredibly, and I’ve been privileged to be part of his life and growth.