Sometimes we say
What will we do?
We have an hour before bedtime
Unsure how to fill the minutes
For our children who need so much
Then I hold my oldest child
And realize he no longer fits in my lap
His gangly legs an awkward bundle
As I try to scrunch him down
Into the baby he was once
To be a parent
Is to do battle with time
We understand that it will exhaust us
Tantrums, sickness, “no you can’t do that”, tickles, chasing, stories, meal times, decisions, discipline
It’s work that you feel deep in your bones
Yet to also know
It is like trying to hold sand
And watch it fall uncontrollably through your fingertips.
As these babies grow and grow, farther into themselves and away from needing us.
Time, please show us grace.
Kacie B. Sharpe 