As I write this post, my hands are currently covered in crayola markers from my turkey drawing expedition with my five year old. I have to admit, drawing is not my most valued gift, but to my little one I am a Van Gogh! We took our handprint as you may have seen and made Turkey's out of them. As I began to trace her little hand I started thinking about how special this moment was for me. Since she has started Kindergarten this year, things have been really busy. We have had family come and visit, trips taken, school activities and other extra curricular activities to do to fill the time. Today was not much different, but Caroline had a dental appointment that required sedation so that meant a day home was in store for us. So after a quiet morning and some cold goodies ordered by the dentist, we decided to make some turkey cards for teachers and Aunts. After the activity was over, I just looked at the tiny hand print left behind and I couldn't help but to think of how fast time is going for my sweet girls. People always say that time will only start going by faster once the kids reach school age, but I never believed it. I mean really, how could they know. Didn't they know I was Just like all other mama's with little ones. My days felt long and seemed to be seamless. There was no way that any day would seem fast to me. I encouraged and pushed my children to hurry up and sleep through the night, take your own bottle or be weened from me, crawl, walk, start preschool, potty train,graduate preschool, tie your own shoes, read to yourself, and our most recent moving out of a carseat. Now I know these things are necessary for them to grow up and become functioning adults, but I also had some selfish motives to get these things accomplished. With being alone most of the time while the girls were little due to a Marine on deployments, I would have mountains of housework to get accomplished, a car that always needed to be cleaned out, a dog that needed a bath and somewhere in the day I just tried to find a little "me" time; always longing for just one day!
Now three years later, we have learned and dealt with being infertile and accepting the fact that these two sweet girls will probably be our last babies, we have accomplished all of the above goals, and now I have plenty moments by myself. Instead of welcoming this new change to my life, I meet it with great resistance. I have been told "embrace your new found freedom and try new things for yourself", but really I only find myself counting down the minutes until I can go pick up my sweet one's from school. Crazy sounding I know, but really the house is too quiet, my day is still filled with the same housework that I always felt overwhelmed with when my babies were home. Only difference now, is the laundry and housework is done and the house has moments when perfection remains, but I find myself missing the little hands that help me fold the wash cloths, someone in the back seat of the van asking me to sing to them, quiet naps where I was invited to stay, trips to the park, bible stories accompanied by our favorite snack, and art are now just fainting moments that I shared with my children. Don't get me wrong, we still engage in so many fun things over the weekend, but these little days during the week are very far and in between times.
So forgive me if my art was not perfect today and I am a marker mess, but now instead of longing for my selfish days, I look forward to days like today that leave me begging for just one more day like this one; a day filled with extra hugs, snuggles, and someone needing my help. A day when instead of my prayer being, "Dear Lord let this day pass by quickly", is now filled with prayers of thanksgiving and pleading "Lord I just need more time"!
Here is a poem I read from a woman named Audri Broggi off her blog "Mothering From The Heart" and she is such an inspirational christian mother that I thought it was something all mom's should have some where in their home to read on a daily basis. My copy is on my note board in my office, so I can see it all the time.
TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 7, 2010
Too Busy
I wrote the following poem many years ago as a note to self:
Today I was busy, too busy to hear
Your laughter, your games, but your voice was so clear.
I worked and I worked, no time to relax
To tell you a story, carry you on my back.
I washed all the clothes, I scrubbed all the floors
I cleaned out your closet and your dresser drawers.
You cleaned up alone, you got yourself dressed
While I kept working and thinking about self.
When you asked me to color, I said, “Not today,
I’m busy, I’m busy, too busy to play.”
I took care of me, I did all my things
I hardly noticed when you started to sing.
I heard you pretend and I heard you play
All the while I kept saying, “I’m busy today.”
When night came along, I said, “Go to bed.”
You paused and I questioned, “Did you hear what I said?”
You got in that bed, you pulled up the covers
You wanted some time, You wanted your mother.
Yet I was too busy to take time with you
I just wanted to finish and get the day through
Consuming my thoughts was to get you in bed
I walked in your room and here’s what you said,
“Mommy, do you think you could stay just a bit?
Tell me a story? Read me a book?”
You asked with such longing, how could I say no?
How could I ignore you, how could I just go?
I felt so ashamed as I looked in your eye
And suddenly I realized the day had flown by.
I stayed for awhile, I read all your books
I held you so tightly, I was glad for your look.
As you said your prayers, my heart felt such tears
For I realized the days were turning into years.
The man you’ll become is shaped at my knee
I mustn’t forget the man that you’ll be.
So tonight little guy, I’m stopping to touch
To pull you real close and love you so much
So tonight I will hold you as long as there’s time
For tomorrow will come when you’re no longer mine.
Yet I have today, I still have some years
I’ll spend them with you as long as you’re here.
When you grow up, you won’t need me the same
But I’ll never be too busy when you call my name.
I love you
No comments:
Post a Comment