Today I did things I normally don’t do. I tried to read piano music alongside one daughter. I tried to harmonize alongside my other daughter in church. I tried to knit a winter hat on an easy knitting loom with both my daughters who sat there, knitting away, while they sang along to Frank Sinatra’s “You Make Me Feel So Young” with perfect harmonies.
I can’t read music! I’m probably tone deaf! And I cannot knit at all. And I don’t like Frank Sinatra, really. OK, maybe I do.
This is a strange life I’m living. The Good Lord gave me crafting, singing, piano playing children who like Frank Sinatra. And I’m failing in all categories, here: my music reading isn’t happening; my singing is still horrific; my hat has fallen apart.
But my oldest smiles with glee and says, “Mom, I’m so glad you’re being crafty with us!”
I’m here. I’m with you. I’m listening to Frank Sinatra right here with you. And I’ll try to cast on again even though I have no idea what that even means. And I’ll nod while you play and clap to the music when I cannot sing one note.
And that’s what motherhood means right now. I’m with you.