The heartbreak of hand-me-downs. I know, it’s silly, right? The feels, all the feels, they overwhelm me for just a moment. The what-ifs sweep through my mind. Followed closely by, “Just stop already, slow down!”
My eyes well. As much as I know my days as the mama of newborn babies are over, I indulge myself for just a moment as my heart aches for the time rushing by. The brutal truth of my children growing and changing with a speed that literally takes my breath away. Each day they need me that little less. Each week our relationships transform, evolve. And I know this is a good thing. It is the way it should be. But still, in that moment, my heart hurts.
Right now I try my utmost to choose time. Time to look into their eyes. Time to listen to their stories. Time for them to show me what they could not yesterday, last week, last month. Time to watch them dance. And swim. And play. And learn all about the world and about themselves. Undistracted time.
The time that calls at me to mop floors and fold clothes and dust shelves is often spent helping roll cookies or playdough or snuggling together watching cartoons or reading Hairy McClary for the 573rd time that day. And all the while the clock mocks me. The work piles up. The guilt nags at the corners of my conscience. I find myself giving in to the pull of checking emails or scrolling Facebook. But more and more I pull myself away to see my children. To hear them. To know them.
All we have is this moment and I am trying to choose time. Tiny fragments of time though they be. I want them to be moments of time that my children know they have me. All of me.
Because I can’t help thinking that it won’t be long before they don’t think they need me at all.
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