Once Upon a Time...

...there lived a Mama whose husband was away for the week.

She gathered art supplies, planned out the menu, re-read this post for inspiration, took a deep breath, and dove in.

Two little girl friends came to play for the day, and though the decibel was disconcerting, three sets of adorable, squeaky voices almost caused her to melt on a few occasions. Almost. She did have a baby, after all, and he needed to sleep.

She decided that's what backyards are for. (Not for the sleeping baby- for the noisy girls!)

They left the chaos behind and ran to the yard. She took a book and the baby monitor and sat in the sun, figuring she would allow her freckles to connect for a bit. She was splashed and interrupted, she held and comforted, ran in and out of the house for popsicles and goldfish and band-aids, and when little teeth began to chatter and Little Man did some chattering of his own through the monitor, they moved inside.

She prayed for a sense of humor as she maneuvered the mess to make lunch, reluctantly sending the little children downstairs to create more havoc while she sliced and stirred and poured.

And when her boy-turning-man helper slipped on some spilt water and ice, and came up red-faced and laughing, they held their sides and laughed till there were tears streaming down their cheeks. And then they mopped up the water together.

She prayed for eyes to delight in the little things. And when she trotted down the stairs ahead of the little girls, they gasped at the way her skirt fluttered around her knees. You're floating! they cried. Do it again! She did. Up and down, laughing and delighting. Soon, all three girls wanted to change out of their swimming suits and into skirts.

Okay, so I won't get a workout on my treadmill today. This will do! she smiled to herself.

Dinner was served, although Little Man was not happy that Mama couldn't hold him. He looked like this.


But then doting brother waltzed him 'round the living room, singing Merciful Lord with gusto. It's not a hymn you'll find in your hymnbooks. Only doting brother knows the words, but Little Man loves it, and so does the Merciful Lord.

Later, when Mama made a rookie mistake and served crumbly chocolate cake to all of the children, she chose instead to delight in their chocolaty smiles and ignore the crumb-littered floor for the moment.

Because of course she discovered another delight in the clean-up process.

Little Man's cries were silenced by the broom. Huge tears dangled off the ends of his preposterously long eyelashes; he watched, fascinated, as she swept the brown crumbs into a pile. And when she sang O, be joyful, O be jubilant, put your sorrows far away, come rejoice and sing together this happy day!, he smiled, and sunshine filled the kitchen.

Board games and clean-up and bath times and snacks and stories, the day came to a close. And although she never got to finish a chapter or eat a meal sitting down or run on the treadmill, and she was falling into bed far past the recommended hour for when husband is away, she was still smiling. Remembering freckles and sunshine and smiles and laughter and hymns from the heart and communing with God on her knees as piles were swept into the dustpan.

Besides, when she lifted her twenty pound baby from his bath seat and had to use both her legs and abs to do so, she was sore for the rest of the evening.

That counts as a workout, doesn't it?

The End.