The Best Years

I know I’ll miss these times. The boys splashing in tide pools, stomping and yelling “sandstorm!” Soaring toy airplanes through the salty air making vrooming sounds and twirling. The energy. The excitement. It’s the best. But it’s also so challenging. When I’m walking in a busy area trying to hold three small hands, people smile and say, “You’ve got your hands full.” And I do. Most days I go to bed spent and exhausted. But whenever I think outside the chaos, I see that I’m at the height of God’s blessing, and I’m overwhelmed by how marvelous it is to be a mom to these three boys. I know one of these days I will sit peacefully on a beach with no kids to watch, and I will miss these times. I won’t remember the tantrums and fighting and how many handfuls of sand I cleaned from their pockets and out of their ears. I will sit on a quiet beach and be like the countless older women who watch me and say, “These are the best years. Enjoy these times.” It’s not the hardships they remember, but it’s the soaring planes, the running and twirling. And what they wouldn’t give for one more day like the days that I’m living now.