I had a muddy mommy moment yesterday. Thankfully, it was just for a moment.
However, it was 5:35 and I had 9 women coming over for a bible study at 6:30. The house was not clean, the chairs were not set up, the DVD was not cued. My own prep work was no where near complete, I was still in my travel clothes, my suitcase sat unopened on my bed, and there were dinner dishes in the sink.
Joshua asked in his almost-three-year-old way, “Mama? Side?” (outside) And I said, “Sure why not?”
I was patting myself on the back for walking away from all my tasks and giving the most important gift I can give–time–to my son.
We went into the back yard, and I stupidly chose to dump all the ice chunks and water out of the turtle sandbox on the back patio. We have been waiting for WEEKS for the ice turtle to melt, and he finally had!
Silly Mommy–I’d created a MASSIVE mud puddle!
My boy looks up at me and tentatively asks, “Mama? Jump? Mud?”
And I had a Muddy Mommy Moment.
I actually had these thoughts in my mind:
No Joshua, you can’t jump in the puddle of icy mud water. You might get really wet, and then I’d have to change you. You might splash it on me and then I’d have to change me. You might traipse it all through the house, and then I’ll have to clean that up too. I have bible study in less than an hour, and you would really mess with my plans–and my patience–if you jumped in that mud puddle.
I’m so glad this Muddy Moment only lasted a moment. What kind of mom would I be if I didn’t let my little boy splash in the mud? In a world where we are constantly racing to the next schedule activity, or rushing to the next phase of life, we so often miss out on moments like this. Pure, unadulterated joy of splashing in the mud. And not just splashing in the mud, but doing it with Mommy. I could have easily left him there to do it all by himself while I started prepping for study or cleaning up emails on my iPhone. But instead we splashed in the mud, threw a dirty ball, chased each other with a broken water gun, and hit the remaining snow piles with sticks, yelling, “Go away snow, go away!”
Motherhood is not scheduling, organizing, pushing, prodding, and herding.
Motherhood is Playing. Developing. Pausing. Teaching.