I just had one of those mothering moments that I never, ever want to forget.
It was a typical night at our house. Greg gave Jace his bath while I tidied up some unfinished business around the house. Greg took off for a basketball game (I told you, a typical evening at our house) and it was just Jace and me. We put on jammies (oh how I love my little one in his jammies), read a few books, and turned off the lights. So what made the night so memorable and special you ask? I'm not really sure... perhaps it was the prayer we said together. We thanked God for our home, our family, our health and protection (couldn't help but think of the Haitian people suffering right now) and thanked Him for dying for us on the cross and forgiving us when we are, well in Jace's terms, "naughty". Maybe it was the way he said "Amen" (which in Jace language sounds more like a sneeze than an "Amen") at the end of our prayer that made me want to hold on to the moment. Or perhaps it was admiring my son draped across my lap, legs hanging down that made me realize how fast he is growing and how quickly time is racing by. Or maybe it was Jace's little brother nudging him from within me that made me enjoy rocking my two baby boys. Or it could have been the way his sweet, small hands were gently laying on my chest or the way his shirt rode up in the back while I gently rubbed his bare, smooth back.
Whatever it was, I loved it. I love being a mom. But I especially love being his mom.