Those Were the Days

Maybe it was because I hate the super bowl.
Maybe it was because we had four people wanting to do four different things.
Maybe it was the recent dumping of snow we'd had.
Maybe it was hunger.
Or the sleep deprivation kicking in
(or like Amy said; "emotional incontinence").

Whatever it was, I was having a horrible time. You know that verse in the Bible? "Do everything without complaining or arguing..." although what I aspired to, that is not what I achieved last night at the super bowl party our church put on at a local health club.
Henry wanted to sleep, I was hungry, Jayson wanted nothing more than to sit and watch the game on those big projection screens and Evy wanted to swim. (The last think I wanted to do was get this post pregnancy body into a swimsuit!)
I learned when a family of four each wants to do their own thing, no one really gets to do much of anything they want...at least not happily. So what did I do? Instead of heading the wisdom of the verse and looking not only to my own interests but also to the interests of others, considering others better than myself, I was a grump.
After sitting in the pool (where no food is aloud) with Henry's car seat in an inch of water while Evy swam with a friend's daughter and I was repeatedly splashed by a couple of boys throwing a football they couldn't seem to catch, I'd had enough. My attitude had finally gotten the best of me. I told Jayson I was going to feed Henry and take the kids home. He sensed that I was just beneath my boiling point (not at all difficult to assess) and quickly said he would go to. I was already heading out to find a spot to nurse. The only spot was in the middle of the hall on an overstuffed couch holding people’s coats. So there I sat while people passed by in a steady trickle trying to discretely feed my son, still stewing with my horrible attitude about the horrible night. A woman walked by about halfway through Henry’s dinner and looked at us with a soft smile on her face. “Oh, those were the days,” she said cheerily, “My kids are 18 now!” and on she walked.
“Those were the days alright” I muddled under my breath thinking on the last time (pre-kids) Jayson and I attended the super bowl party at this place. But then suddenly I realized what she said, and what I was doing.
These are the days. It’s one short year I’ll have the pleasure of nursing my son and then it’s gone forever. It’s only a matter of time before Evy would rather swim with her friends than me. Some day, our kids won’t be dragged to a “family event;” they’ll have their own plans and I’ll wish for the times we always did things together. It took me until I was home and Evy had been put to bed to realize these things, and to feel bad for my selfish attitude. But I’m working on it. Maybe next time I’ll be able to keep perspective and see the joy of the moment. After all, these are the days.