Good Morning

This morning, like every morning since Cannon has not been confined to the crib, we were woken up with the sound of our bedroom door being opened, the grunt of two little bodies climbing up on our bed, followed by intentional body slams. Sometimes it's fun, but most of the time it's not. I usually get my hair pulled (thank goodness for short hair), my head bonked, or my belly stepped on (the abuse to the third child has already started). Rich takes the hits better than I, but it's a rough and painful way to be woken up.
Yesterday, I made a conscious effort to try to change my mentality about all the "love" and "affection" that the kids pour onto me. If you are familiar with the 5 Love Languages and you know me, you know that touch is not my way of showing or receiving affection. I am more of a quality time/acts of service girl. Well, because of my "languages preference" I forget that my kids sometimes really need my touch, and my lap to sit on. I was right in the midst of vacuuming and tidying up the house, and I sat down for a minute to rest. Immediately they both climbed on my lap for a quick snuggle. My first impulse was to get back to my tasks so that I could finish my work, and relax in the afternoon while they were sleeping. Suddenly, I had a little prick in my spirit which reminded me that someday they will not want this type of time with me, and I should take advantage of it while it lasted. Someday they will not hold my hand in the parking lot. Someday they will roll their eyes when I ask for a hug or kiss. Someday they will laugh at me, not with me. Someday the first person that they want to see in the morning will not be me...
Maybe it's not so bad to be bombarded, bruised and battered first thing in the morning. I even think I might be able to handle it for a few more years.