Full

Our lives are pretty full.

Our schedule is full of activities–gymnastics and piano and library story time and dance. Full of reminders to practice spelling words and find the missing library book, to schedule the next checkup and the next birthday party. Our calendars are full of family and friends and adventure and a little laziness and not enough time on the weekends. Full.

Our to-do lists are full–full of yard work and laundry and dishes and cleaning. Full of remembering to change the oil in the van and pay the mortgage, full of making time to put away the clothes we’ve outgrown and unpack the next size up. Full of trying to fit in all the things and also knit a scarf and read a book and write a blog post and shop for Christmas. Full.

Our house is full. Full of toys. And kid shoes. And boxes that need taken to the recycling. Our cupboard is full of snacks. Our filing basket is full of papers that need to be put away. Our kitchen table is full of play doh that I haven’t had time to put away yet.

The trash can upstairs is full. My bathroom cabinet is full of creams that probably won’t fool anyone into thinking I’ve had a full night of sleep this week. At the beginning of every meal, someone is always “full”. My bedroom is full of boxes of Christmas presents that I haven’t wrapped yet. Our van is full. Our stroller is full. I have a drawer full of cards and pictures my kids have made for me over the years. Full.

Still sometimes I’m full of worry. Worry about the oldest at school. Worry about the toddler’s speech. Worry about the baby’s weight gain. Worry about potty training and reading comprehension and social skills. Worry about how they’ll handle the hard things in life like making friends and telling the truth. Worry that I’m not doing enough or that I’m doing too much.

Worry that these full, beautiful, overwhelming days will pass too quickly. Worry that I won’t fully savor this fullness.

Because I know deep down that some day life won’t be this full. These little people who are the reason our hearts and lives and house are so full will grow and stretch their wings and create a little more space between things.

And when that happens, I won’t remember the full schedule or full to-do list or full toy cupboards. I won’t remember the cupboards full of sippy cups or the trash can full of diapers or the dreams of getting just one full night of sleep.

Instead I will remember that our house was full of music. That the toddler would randomly announce “dance party” and that meant I should put on the song “Shut Up and Dance With Me” so they could all jam out together. I will remember car rides full of the soundtracks to Frozen and Moana and Trolls and all the songs from Daniel Tiger. I will remember singing “Twinkle Twinkle” in the car for forty five minutes straight because it made the baby stop crying.

I will remember days full of laughter. When the two littles would splash and laugh so much in the bathtub that it was hard to get them to settle back down and go to bed afterwards. When the baby would shriek like a banshee at the dinner table and make everyone laugh hysterically. When the toddler would laugh so hard that she threw up (like in the car on the drive to Wisconsin). When all three would chase each other around the family room, giggling all the while until someone inevitable injured someone else. I will remember that they each had their own unique laugh but that all three were ticklish in the exact same spot along their collar bone.

I will remember that our lives were full of generosity. Of taking care of each other. I will remember our lives were full of love. Of pizza movie nights. Of decorating the Christmas tree together. I will remember bike rides full of sunshine and cups full of hot chocolate after building a snowman. I will remember days full of imagination, days full of snuggling, days full of reading together and building with Legos and playing Candyland. I will remember a fridge full of kid-art and windows full of tiny fingerprints and bathtubs full of bubbles and twin beds full of stuffed animals.

I know the time will come when the days are a little less full, and that’s okay. Because when I think about this life I get to live and the people I get to live it with, I can’t imagine my heart ever being anything but full.

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