Full Hands

I can't tell you how many times a week I hear "Wow, you sure have your hands full."  This week, one of my kids turned the tables.  We were in the elevator at the children's museum.  A grandma was there with her two grandkids.  Anthony walked up to her and said, "Wow, you sure have your hands full." The lady looked at me and said, "What did he say?"  I repeated it and she said, "That's what I thought, what an odd thing for a little guy to say."  I told her that we sure heard that a lot and she said, "Well, your children are a beautiful hand full!"

It's a little sad to me that now my 4 year old is repeating that phrase.  My kids have asked many times, "Why do people say that?"  How do I explain to them that the world views them, children, as commodities and burdens?  My whole life is centered around raising these children.  For years, I have wanted nothing more than to have my "hands full" of children.  And it's every bit as fulfilling as I thought it would be.

That's not to say we don't have our rough days.  Today being one, and unfortunately, my attitude was of the "they're a handful" variety.  After a crazy morning, some cranky kids and some incidents of my kiddos not being nice to each other, I had an accident.  I had buckled the kids in the car and ran back inside to grab the diaper bag and bottles.  On my way back out the door, I saw one kid hitting another kid.  In my rush, I tripped on a kid's shoe, fell down our concrete stairs, twisted my ankle and dropped all of the stuff.

Shortly after that, we arrived at the park.  After our craziness, I was cranky.  One of my kids in particular, was very cranky.  Said child chose to throw a huge tantrum at the park, including throwing the lunch I packed on the ground and then screaming about the lunch being ruined...  Baby was crying, another kiddo was disobeying me and another kid kept pushing toddlers over (why????).  I was frustrated and short with them.  My goal in the moment was basically to get them all to leave me alone and go play.

When they went down for naps and I finally sat and took a breath, I thought about our morning.  I wasn't proud of how I lost my cool and became frustrated and annoyed with their contsant pleas.  I wasn't happy with the way my attitude had been. It wasn't an attitude of "look at these beautiful blessings, let me show them how much I care".  And as I thought about it, I remembered what happened after I fell down the stairs.  I lay on the ground, in pain, crying.  When I got up, the backseat offenders were crying too.  I hobbled over and asked what was wrong and they said, "Mommy, you were hurt!"  They were crying for me.  I assured them I was okay and one said, "But you can't be hurt, we need you to take care of us!"

Today, I certainly had my hands full.  It really had nothing to do with the number of kids I was caring for, but more to do with the moods and attitudes of the kids and myself.  But it only took one moment of their empathy to show me how beautifully full my hands are.  My heart is FULL.  They make me better.  They're my path to (hopefully) sainthood (I have a LOOOONG way to go).  Each child and their unique blend of strengths and challenges, makes me a better person.  My hands are full and my heart is fuller.

After years of infertility and a crazy adoption journey, I couldn't be happier with my full hands.  When I'm told how full my hands are, I usually respond "And it's wonderful!".  My kids reminded me today just how wonderful.  Once in a while we hear "You are so very blessed" or "You have such beautiful children" and I choose to hold onto those words as a parent.  What a blessed life I have.  What a privilege it is to be entrusted with these 5 souls.