Even though I love growing older and watching my babies do the same, sometimes it's just perfect to slow down, stop and enjoy. Life can be so hectic and some days I bring my own version of mindful hectic to reality. But I long for the days where the sun is shining and the world is practically begging you to see the beauty in each little moment.
As a child I remember walking creek beds just searching for an adventure . Or seeing how far I could take myself without ever getting lost. But even the simple moments of watching too much tv was good for my little soul, that was tired of what I thought was a busy world. How life is almost comical to make us believe the world can be so tough be at such young ages. But then again, we don't know what their little minds are holding in or how they've experienced life for the day.
Even through our own stresses and worries we're merely blinded to the fact that our children also need that moment of reassurance. That isn't just the reassurance of love, but of grace and mercy. As a Mother, I'm far too often jumping to conclusions rather than holding the peace. It's part of my faults as a person. Sometimes in the middle of a moment of parenting I think, "create the peace, don't join the choas" with the choas still stirring I don't listen to my inner thoughts. Within moments I'm Mommy shaming myself until the next parenting praise. Or I'm thinking about how my Dad would silently whisper, "leave that poor baby alone" even though he knew I was parenting - for he greater good.
While I may need the slow down, and the moments to take in of silence. These little humans may too. Tonight we spent the afternoon running a few errands, having dinner, stopping for donuts and then pulling into the park while I screamed "last one out is a rockin' egg" {Rockin egg = rotten egg for the littlest} It took a few moments of convincing that I'm not a loon and if the police showed up, we would shake their hands and remind them that Daddy is home with the stomach bug. While I tend to freak the holy haystacks out when the bug is present, I somehow turned my night around with these thoughts...
"These are the moments they'll never remember, but I'll never forget."
They may not remember thirty minutes we spent screaming to jump the hay rolls, but I'll remember the first smile during the landing. She probably won't remember me climbing the monkey bars, but I'll never forget the laughter while we played tagged on this warm Feburary night. They may {Mommy fail} wake up with croup, but I'll be darn if we didn't have fun.
We may cause choas in our moments of memory making, and if we do that's okay. Just take the next moment to pause, smile at them {they may need that slight moment of reassurance, just as we do} and remember these moments pass way too often.
For now, I'll be spending the rest of this non-snowy winter jumping hay - or finding my way out of the chaos. Either way, I sure I hope I never forget these moments.
