Why being a mom is a little like riding the Texas Giant.

I've decided that being a mom is a bit like riding a roller coaster. Being pregnant is sort of like waiting in the never ending line, winding through roped off lanes but never actually moving more than a few feet from where you started. You see everyone ahead of you doing this thing and they seem to be having fun. Your feet are swollen and you are mildly uncomfortable and whatnot but look at how much fun everyone is having, right? Then as it gets closer to being your turn you get the nervous sweats and start that high pitched laugh that you do when you are anxious. You know the one I mean. Finally you get to the front of the line and they strap you into a small metal car and you know you have hit the point of no return once that shoulder harness clicks into place. You wonder why such an extensive restraint system is required but quickly throw caution to the wind. The ride has begun. And that is just the thing about babies. Once they come out, you can't put them back. You are strapped in for the duration. As soon as the ride starts you realize that you have no idea why you thought this was a good idea, but as you start climbing your excitement builds. You take the first drop and your heart races. Somewhere in this wildly exhilarating yet simultaneously terrifying blur of time, you go upside down, someone in front of you spits into the wind which boomerangs the spit straight back into your face, you are not entirely sure but you think you may have swallowed your own vomit, and you definitely peed your pants a little. But as the ride begins to slow to an end you realize that you accomplished something. You faced your fears and won. And even though your hair is disheveled and you have bugs in your teeth, you can't help but feel like this was one of your greatest moments. I think that is sort of what it feels like to be a mom. Hopefully at the end, you can look back and feel that sense of pride and accomplishment in spite of the gray hair and cellulite and extreme fatigue. But sometimes along the ride you just need someone to remind you that you are not going to die and this is supposed to be fun.

I feel like the last stretch of time in our family has been full of twists and drops and thrills and turns. And that is all fine and good. But tonight I hit that small space of time where you get to catch your breath before the next big climb. And I needed it. I need margin in my life. Call it what you will- down time, solitude, peace, stillness. Margin. Life has just been busy lately. Nothing bad, but not a lot of time to stop and regroup. Then tonight, Mike was gone and it was just me and the kids. It was time to tuck everyone in, and my 11 year old, deodorant wearing, size 9 footed, middle school son looked at me with such sincerity and said "Mom, I think doggie might be lonely." He has held on to this remnant of his childhood mostly because I cry whenever he mentions getting rid of him. Don't judge. I am overly sentimental, but at least I am self aware. So, I quietly picked up doggie off his couch and heard him whisper "You might as well bring bear too." And somehow this small reminder that he is still my little boy ministered to my heart in such a precious and timely way. Thank you, Lord, for the small reminders of the things in life that truly matter most. And thank you, Carter, for the reminder that this whole ride is supposed to be sweet and fun.