i'm going to miss this?

So, I've been hearing this expression a lot - enjoy this time with your kids because you're really going to miss this time, your kids will only be little once, etc. I was up late the other night folding laundry, because really, who can do that while holding an infant and telling the big boys not to unfold everything in the basket? Anyways. I was listening to President Monson's talk from General Conference in October called The Joy of the Journey. He talked about enjoying the time with your little kids now because one day you'd miss all the laundry and fingerprinted surfaces. I looked down at my mountains and I wondered: I'm going to miss this?

I wondered it again tonight as I watched Will hurl red powerade dyed vomit all over the living room carpet. The carpet is ugly, old, and vile and I hate it, but now it's going to be pink in places, too. As I'm trying to rush him to the bathroom I thought to myself again: I'm going to miss this?

But then, as I looked at Will's big brown eyes ( I should post a photo of just his eyes so you can really understand) as he sadly looked up at his yucky pajamas I thought to myself, I'm going to miss THAT. I'm going to miss that face that looks for me to comfort him when things are going badly. I'm going to miss those eyes that tell me I'm the only person that can make things right again. I'm going to miss the little body curled up next to mine as it tries again to find balance and normalcy after something shocking like throwing up. That. I'm going to miss that.

Powerade puke, maybe not so much.

One other thing I'll miss, especially since my posts recently have all been about Will.

Today we were in the parking lot in the grocery store after an especially stressful shopping trip that involved children running wild through the meat section repeatedly using the automatic hand sanitizing dispenser and making hand sanitizer puddles all over the floor. UG! (incidentally - not missing that either.) Anyways, we get to the parking lot and a pretty rough looking woman comes up to us and tells us she needs money to buy food. As usual, I have no cash. I tell her that much, that I don't have cash and she thanks me and leaves.

Sam noticed this. (He notices everything.) He said "Mom, is that lady poor?" We talked for a few minutes about how she needed money and Mom didn't have any to give her, but if I had had some cash, I would've given her some. And then, with the sincerity only a five year old can muster, he looked right into my eyes and said, "Heavenly Father is glad you tried, Mom."

Thanks, Sam.

I think I'll miss that, too.