In the daily life of motherhood it is easy to get caught up, overwhelmed and frustrated. You can begin to focus on the fits, tantrums and fights, and overlook the love, joy and magic that is taking place right before your eyes. Two phrases are increasingly common in our current society, “cherish these moments, they go by quick” and “Mothering is the hardest thing you will ever do.” Both are incredibly true statements. My babies are only 2.5 and 1, So I am in no way writing this as a woman who has raised her babies, caught up on her sleep and has since forgotten how frustrating lunch,nap,dinner,bed time is EVERY FREAKING DAY. I am still in the thick of it. I have more days than not where I lose my temper, swear up and down I cannot handle one more fit, and pray, no beg, god for patience. But I already know, that sprinkled into every one of these days, are beautiful moments that I am going to miss.
Every single time I apply sunblock to my babies faces they twist and scream and fight like I am spreading lava on their skin. It is beyond frustrating, I dread doing it and try to convince myself it isn't that hot out before ultimately battling my wild little humans into submission. However when they run up to me and plant those sticky little sand covered kisses on my cheek, and I am left with the sweet smell of their sunblock covered lips as they run back to their sand castles, I know, that is a moment I am going to miss. Years from now I will go to the beach and no one will fight me when I lather up, no one will interrupt me as I lay out under the sun, and No One will plant tiny little sunblock kisses on my cheek. I will see other couples chasing their babies, exhausted moms loaded up with toys towels and snacks like pack muels and I will miss these beautiful days I take for granted now.
Each morning as I do yoga my one year old crawls under me, in between my hands and feet, making each move feel more like a game of twister than the relaxing stretch I am supposed to experience. My hands dodge racecars, barbie dolls and goldfish crackers as they search for a place to land. My two year old comes up behind me and lays across my legs making my stretch much more painful than I was hoping in the moment, or his tiny little arms reach around my neck as he pulls himself up onto my back choking me in the process…. And I am going to miss this. Those tiny little hands are growing by the day. Soon they will be grown, and while they will still be my babies, I will no longer be their everything, they will no longer want to touch, play and pull on me. Those little arms may wrap me in a hug once a week upon greeting me, but they will no longer be filled with the love and devotion a child has for their mother. In this time I will long for the days they begged me for an “uppy.” I would give anything for one more cuddle on the couch as we watch our morning cartoons, and I will scorn myself for every time I felt frustrated when those tiny humans made my yoga a game of twister.
My son particularly is extremely dependent on me during his play. He cannot go five minutes without saying “watch this mom” “watch me mom” “see that mom?” He begs me to play race cars, monster trucks and skateboards for hours on end, and there are days that I find myself keeping my hands busy with housework or school work or whatever, because I just can't drive another racecar that day. But more and more frequently when his friends come over he gets so caught up in his play he doesn't even hear me when I call his name, and I know it won't be long before I am begging him to give me more than a one word answer about his day when I pick him up from school, and shortly after that I will only hear about his day over the phone when he has time to talk to me, and I will look back on the days of dirty dishes and racecars and wish that I had chosen the racecars.
And at the end of each day, as we fight our way through our evening routines, with each child telling us how they aren't sleepy, claiming to be hungry, needing to use the potty, forgot their “so special toy” downstairs, and wanting just one more book. I don't pause nearly enough. Far too often I rush my way through their bedtime, eager to get downstair to my few hours of kid free peace before going to bed myself. But they always wake up one day older, one day further away from the babies they once were, one day closer to the day that I only get to miss the way it is now.
It has been said time and again that “the days are long but the years are short” That is the most true statement I have ever heard. I do not know the magic cure to lose the frustration caused by the insistence that they aren't tired while their red eyed faces shout at us. How to cherish the meal time that you've made 6 different foods per their request that they still won't eat. I cannot tell you how to walk toward them with the sunblock without anxiety building about the little limbs that are about to fly at your face as you apply what they think is pure torture in a bottle. But I do know that these are the moments that I will miss. Years from now I will look back at these days and wish I had figured it out. Years from now I will say that I will give everything I have for one more day filled with tantrums, tiny attitudes, and sunblock kisses. My morning yoga will feel more lonely than relaxing and my tidy room will feel empty without its toys. These moments Sprinkled in with the frustration are everything. They are the beauty, the magic, the definition of what life is. Please don't take them for granted. They are only little for a little while, and you can never get this time back.
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