The Children's Hour

"Between the dark and the daylight,
When the night is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day's occupations,
That is known as the Children's Hour.

I hear in the chamber above me
The patter of little feet,
The sound of a door that is opened,
And voices soft and sweet."



I have my sweet little Cricket home for a few days. It has been exhausting, and hard, but such a delight!

Tonight as she started to signal being tired...ie: screaming, crying, begging for milk, blanket, baby, and to rock... my emotions about got the better of me. I have not been doing very well, and today was a very long pain filled day (I wouldn't trade a moment for the time spent with my little one though), and the thought of having to chase a tired sensitive, screaming child was too much for me to bear. I got her to come rock with me, and the second I started to sing her sweet bed time songs, her demeanor changed. It wasn't long before my sweet girl drifted into a quiet sleep and held tightly to my thumb. I couldn't bring myself to part from her just yet, so I just held her close, rocked some more, and cried.

Of all the jobs I have ever had, or could ever dream of having, being a mom is by far the hardest, most emotionally, physically, and mentally draining. It is painful, and stressful, and I often feel like I will lose my mind. But I have never been so happy, so fulfilled, or so overwhelmed with love. It has been especially difficult over the past few months, and there are many days I feel that I cannot take it anymore. But then I have a "Children's Hour", and my heart and body are renewed, and I wouldn't trade a minute of it, for anything in this world.

I told Hubs earlier tonight when I was getting really frustrated, that I felt like I had lost myself in becoming a Mom. That I had nothing left that was my own. It hurt me to feel like I wasn't a whole person anymore, and that I had nothing left to call my own. Even my body was not my own anymore. I was at a breaking point. But then during my "Children's Hour" tonight, I realized that through my children I had become whole, that they were my whole heart, and my whole being. They are like love on fire. I was never whole before them. Something was always missing. A piece was gone that I could never describe, or understand.

The pain, and stress, and frustration we experience as mothers is what makes us whole. It is what gives us everything we have ever hoped for, and yearned for. It is what makes our hearts whole, enlightens us, and brings peace to our souls. There is a part of us missing, until our children come. However they may come. There is never as much peace in our lives, than through the chaos of being a mother. Never as much rest and comfort in my soul, than when I am holding my child. I have never experienced such love, a love that hurts more than I have ever hurt when it is gone, than with my child.

This is what gets a through. They are the ones that pull us back up when we have fallen so low. They give us the strength and the courage to carry on.

I am not lost with my child, I am lost without her. I cannot wait until my sweet little girl can be home all the time. I am not sure how I will handle all that energy at once, after having such a low key life for the last three months, but I cannot wait to have my children home, and be whole again.

The Children's Hour
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Between the dark and the daylight,
When the night is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day's occupations,
That is known as the Children's Hour.

I hear in the chamber above me
The patter of little feet,
The sound of a door that is opened,
And voices soft and sweet.

From my study I see in the lamplight,
Descending the broad hall stair,
Grave Alice, and laughing Allegra,
And Edith with golden hair.

A whisper, and then a silence:
Yet I know by their merry eyes
They are plotting and planning together
To take me by surprise.

A sudden rush from the stairway,
A sudden raid from the hall!
By three doors left unguarded
They enter my castle wall!

They climb up into my turret
O'er the arms and back of my chair;
If I try to escape, they surround me;
They seem to be everywhere.

They almost devour me with kisses,
Their arms about me entwine,
Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen
In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine!

Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti,
Because you have scaled the wall,
Such an old mustache as I am
Is not a match for you all!

I have you fast in my fortress,
And will not let you depart,
But put you down into the dungeon
In the round-tower of my heart.

And there will I keep you forever,
Yes, forever and a day,
Till the walls shall crumble to ruin,
And moulder in dust away!