In The Weeds



“Chelsea!  It’s so good to see you!!” she said as I scooped up my 15 month old for the third time that minute. 

“It’s great to see you, too!” I got out as my little one protested because she wanted to be down.

She and I chatted for 30 seconds about how old the kids were and how fast time goes before she compassionately said, “Girl, you’re in the weeds.”  I nodded and laughed and agreed.  We said goodbye and went our separate ways: she out the door to her car alone and I back to wrangling my little lady back through the automatic doors.  

Later that night, while my husband and I were catching up at dinner, I told him about seeing Beth and caught him up on her kids’ happenings.  Then I repeated the phrase, “We’re in the weeds.”  I said it with the same tone she did and noticed something: she was just stating a fact.  She wasn’t saying that life with three little kids is horrible and impossible and the worst thing ever.  She didn’t make her statement in a way that seemed like she felt sorry for me.  She just said it.

And man is it true.

My husband and I are in the weeds!

Life is thick and overgrown and at times, a bit itchy and bothersome.  We are in the toughest season of parenthood yet with three kids under five, and it can be tough.  There’s not a ton of order, no matter how hard I fight for it.  I lose my cool, the kids lose their cool, and thank the Lord that my husband is cool as a cucumber!  Sometimes the grass is just so high that we can’t see over it for days at a time.  And while that can make me feel like it’ll never change and we will never not be in the weeds, it’s also rather beautiful being here.  Yes, I’m covered in snot most days, but I am also covered in kisses, as slobbery as they may be.  I hear sweet giggles and get to kiss boo-boos all better for a living.  I may have to referee nineteen arguments a day between my three and four-year-olds, and pull my littlest off of tables way more than I care to, but I also get to watch them discover and learn.  I can rejoice with them when they feel proud, and if I am lucky, I slow down enough to see the world through their beautiful eyes.

My friend’s innocent, silly comment, which I am sure she has long forgotten has stuck with me and given me newfound freedom in motherhood.

I am proudly in the weeds.  The tall, bushy, insane and sometimes maddening but truly beautiful weeds.