It was 6:45 pm, we had just returned home from a busy afternoon of swimming lessons and grocery shopping, everyone was starving, and Shane was working late. Exhausted from lugging the groceries plus the baby and the toddler up the three flights of stairs, I hurried to serve the supper that had been cooking in the crockpot all day. I reached into the drawer to grab a serving spoon and sliced my finger on something sharp.
"Sh**!!!" I cried as I grabbed a paper towel to stop the bleeding. The kids all ran over to see what had happened as I examined my finger. It wasn't anything serious but it sure was bleeding a lot and I had to keep pressure on it.
" How am I supposed to get you guys supper and feed Gus??!?! Why isn't Daddy home??!?!" I wailed. (It wasn't my finest moment, I admit). And that's when I heard my seven year old sigh and say, "What can I do to help?"
I looked at her in shock and awe. Suddenly everything seemed a little less daunting. I instructed her as she served out the spaghetti and then my five year old carried it to the table. She offered to put the baby in his high chair but since it is as tall as she is and he is almost as heavy as she is I opted to avoid that disaster and awkwardly swung him up with one hand and then watched as my big girls fed him, ate their own food without prompting, and then worked together to load the dishwasher and wash the dishes.
As I tucked them into bed that evening still nursing my silly finger, I whispered, "I don't know what I'd do without you sweet girls."
Every time I set foot in the grocery store some kind soul is sure to remind me of how full my hands are! And while many times they truly are, sometimes these children are my hands, and I couldn't be more grateful. To all you moms out there of just littles, hang in there! Just wait until your oldest ones are old enough to actually help - what a difference it will make!