It was the end of the day. Her baby brother had been taking her things since the moment they woke up. She is the kindest, most loving, big sister though and she had been patient all day long. She waited while I nursed her brother, prepped meals, held him for multiple naps, and switched the laundry. She sang him songs in the car on our way back from gymnastics as he was beginning to fuss. She watched as I carried him all day and made silly faces with him to see him smile. She played blocks with him and let him sit in her fort. She let him hold her markers as we worked on her homeschool lesson.

But now, dinner was over and everyone was getting sleepy while we finished the evening in the playroom. I snuck away for a moment to switch the laundry and left her dad in charge, and that’s when it happened. Her baby brother took her toy again and she began to cry.

My husband came out and called me to come back in and I found her sitting by her play kitchen with tears rolling down her cheeks. I already knew what happened before I asked. But I asked anyways. And all she could do was quietly cry.

Becoming a big sister is a huge transition. And I’ve waited for her to say it’s too hard or that she doesn’t want to be one or that it’s not fair. But never once has she said anything like that. She’s loved her brother since the moment she discovered he was growing in my belly. She’s unwavered in her declaration that she loves him more than anyone in the world…except for me.

But I’ve watched her face in the difficult to share moments, the moments she’s needed me at the same time the baby does. And though she doesn’t say it with words, she says it with how she plays or how she tries to sneak in moments with me when everyone is asleep.

She is still my baby too. I’ve made sure to tell her that from day one. That she will ALWAYS be my baby too. There’s no replacing her.

It’s been a hard week with a teething baby brother. So tonight I scooped her up from the playroom floor and we went for a walk. Just the two of us. It was past everyone’s bedtime. I held her hand the whole time and she asked me a million big questions in our short stroll around the block: “How does God hold onto the air?” “What is a spirit?” “Why do ants make a bunch of little ant hills instead of one giant anthill?” “Can we make a surprise cake for Dad tomorrow?”

By the time we got back it was like her heart felt settled. Everything was right in her world again. And when it was time for her to crawl into bed, she fell right to sleep holding my hand. A sign that her needs were met, a frequent connection I’ve made with her nighttime sleep.

It’s hard to go from being a mama of one to a mama of two. I rarely feel like enough. But nights like these I remember that childhood carries the huge grace of simplicity, and that simple moments together like a 15 minute walk around the block holding hands actually holds great weight with our little ones.

Connection is a huge deal. Yet, it can be accomplished in the most simple ways.

Some ways I’ve tried to sneak in extra connection on days that are especially challenging include:

-turning off the music in the car and asking my daughter questions like : what’s your favorite ice cream, what’s your favorite animal, what has been your favorite part of today?

-Asking what song she would like to listen to in the car and singing it loudly with her.

-playing I Spy when I don’t have free hands

-inviting her to help me make dinner

-going on a short walk just the two of us

As a mom, I know that connecting with someone who really sees me and is interested in my life is a huge deal. It’s a really big deal for our kiddos too.
Thankfully, it’s the simplest moments that make the biggest impact. A simple walk together for example, has the power to redeem an entire day.