I guess it's paying off. The hours I've spent reading, thinking about and discussing Motherhood and what kind of mama I want to be.
I just swept up my late grandmother's antique crystal butter dish. I knew it was risky to use it with littles in the house, but every reminder of her kind heart helps me along in my day. She was steadfast in her faith and she loved being with us. Plus, I'm tired of storing things. If something is special, I want to use it and emjoy it instead of tucking things away to get dusty and forgotten.
The girls were eating lunch while I was pumping so the baby can eat while I'm at work tonight. I just needed a few minutes of quiet. My 2 year old is in a whiny phase where she's not really sure what she wants, but making the whole house know that she is needy is top priority. Daddy is at work all day so he wasn't here to help with lunch like he usually is. I heard a crash and my first thought was a mug. I was hoping it wasn't my favorite color of Fiestaware. I hadn't even thought of the butter dish.
I made it down the hallway to the kitchen and saw my almost-5-year-old with a scared look on her face. As soon as our eyes met she started wailing. I saw the pieces scattered around the floor. She was so scared that I would be angry. I've told her at least 458 times to not climb up and try to get things from the cupboard. Instead of hollering like I wanted to, I got on the floor and held her while we cried together. It's just stuff. I'm not angry, just sad. A dish and a heart could have been broken today, but I held my tongue and showed grace even when it was hard to do.