Lately, my morning prayer has been for the Lord to fill me with love and selflessness. I ask for patience and for guidance as I lead Jackson down a path of righteousness.
I want to look back and be able to say, “I have no greater joy than to know that Jackson is walking in truth.” (3 John 4)
I pray this prayer and then there are days like we had last week. Three out of five to be exact.
Let me just give you a glimpse.
Jackson please don’t ride the dog (it’s a 7 pound Yorkie).
Jackson please get out of the pantry. You don’t need another snack. (Repeat 100 times).
Jackson, eat the Goldfish.
He looks at me and laughs.
Stomp. Stomp. Crunch. Crunch.
Didn’t I just sweep the floor?
Emptying the dishwasher takes ten times longer than it should.
I fix lunch and it goes untouched – again!
I hear giggling. I look up to find Jackson in his birthday suit, diaper in hand.
Jackson, please don’t climb on top of the coffee table.
Do not throw your book at Story (the 7 pound Yorkie.)
Is it nap time yet?
I hear water running.
Jackson is standing on the toilet in my bathroom and he’s brushing his teeth.
With MY toothbrush.
Mommy needs a timeout.
I put him down for the much anticipated nap and cover him with his favorite fuzzy blanket.
I collapse into my favorite red chair.
I open my journal and scribble.
#96 Nap Time.
I enjoy a few hours of uninterrupted bliss.
I walk into his room after nap time. I’m greeted by the most ferocious dinosaur.
“RAAWWRRR….” he says.
His dark eyes sparkle.
In that moment, the Goldfish crumbs, the unusable toothbrush, and the morning chaos are disappear.
I get him settled with a snack and his favorite cartoon.
I open my journal and add a gift to my list.
#99 Being greeted by a dinosaur after nap time.
That night as John rubbed my feet, I filled him in on our day.
Jackson climbed into my lap and handed me the lotion.
He loves having his feet rubbed, just like his mama.
I squeezed the pink goo into my hands and he giggled in anticipation.
I rubbed my hands together to warm the lotion. I lathered it on his fat, little feet.
He melted into me. Every ounce of his ornery self crumbled.
I made a mental note. I would write it down later.
I didn’t want to interrupt the rare occassion.
#100 A moment between mother and son.