The Good Ole Days

My father is a wise man. I enjoy hearing his opinions and taking in whatever wisdom he offers. Do I always agree with him? Of course not, but that doesn’t change the way I think about him. He is a father of four kids and a grandfather to eight going on nine kiddos, five and under. Let’s say the man has had some life experience. 

I, like my father, have four children. The days run me over like a MAC truck ramming over a soda can. Many days it is difficult to see the future due to the giant mountain standing right in front of me. The mountains change daily. Spilled blueberry smoothie all over the carpet, poop under your fingernail (insert gagging), or maybe my child’s attitude is appalling. During one of those moments of pure frustration, my dad leans over and says, “just remember…these are the good ole days.” 

In the moment I want to slap his words away from myself. Heck. To. The. No. Sir. Good ole days. Psh. Finally we are home and all children are in their beds sound asleep. I assess the damage of the day and sit down instead of cleaning. I go through photos on my phone and begin to recall the sweet moments from the days. Simple acts of love from my daughter reaching for my hand and holding it. My son making goofy faces to make me laugh or trying to distract my eyes from the mischief he was causing. My oldest girl telling endless made up knock knock jokes and laughing at her jokes that make no sense. 

My children bring me pure, unadaltered joy. They send rage coursing through my entire body. Their kisses on my cheek are overwhelmingly sweet and sticky with snot all at the same time. Their love for me is forgiving and full of grace. 

Being a parent is the hardest and most gratifying life decision I have ever made. I would not change these moments for anything because it is true…I am living in the good ole days. 

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