I read this post today and I can't stop thinking about it. MckMama, a fantastic mama and blogger wrote this post :
"I am going to miss this" (see bellow).
Being a parent is hard, some days I count the minutes for bedtime so I can have some time to breath, some days she tests my patience to the limit, some days I have to read the same book over and over again, or tell her no a million times or pick up all the dinner from the floor. During her first year I promised myself that I would not let all the crap that was going on with my former marriage interferer, that I would try to enjoy every single moment, all the firsts, because I knew it that I was going to miss my baby lyla, that she was growing up so fast. I do miss baby Lyla, but I am in love with toddler Lyla. I love that she understands what I say, can "talk" with me, express her love with the best hugs ever! toddler Lyla is also challenging, does not stop one second,leaves me breathless some days. After ournvacation she has been giving me the hardest time ever to sleep. I let her cry until she falls asleep. Today, she was saying : mama, please with a voice that I knew she truly need me! I went there and thought it was pointless to let her cry when I could comfort her with a hug (I do believe in sleep training) . I held her, she stopped crying immediately, hugged me and I rocked her to sleep, just like when she was a baby... she is still m baby. She trusts me, loves me, depends on me and believes that I am the best person in the entire universe... and I thought to myself: I am going to miss this. Then I read this post... maybe I will never experience motherhood again, so I will try to remember when I am frustrated, tired, angry, that I will miss all of it, even the hard part, I will remember how it felt not having her, how empty it was. When she becomes a teenager and mommy is no longer her number 1 person, i will miss these days that I can make all better with one kiss, that I can make her stop crying with my presence and hug, that my silly faces are so funny that she wants me to make them over and over again, I will miss her sweet toddler voice saying MAMA and reaching out to me with her arms, I will miss seeing her on her car seat and listening to silly kids songs on the car, I will miss the tiny little clothes and even the diapers, I will miss being able to dress her the way I want with big bows in her hair, colorful tights, I will miss seeing her crib, I will miss Elmo, the Wonder pets, Moose a Moose, I will miss singing "Loco Legs" (fresh beat band) a million times everyday, I will miss the way she talks now, the 1000 faces that she makes, the ways she dances... I am gonna miss all this for sure. I hope it does not go by too fast
I hope that I will keep getting these sweet kisses for forever!
read the post bellow and reflect
" "How do you do it? How do you stay so calm with four young children?"
Part of it is just how God made me, I think. I am pretty calm with my children. And, honestly, often I stay calm even in the midst of chaos because, frankly, it's better than the alternative. A shrieking, freaking out mama is not going to make an already stressful situation any better. So, for the most part, I stay calm and try to be in the moment with my children.
But how do I do it?
There is one little bit of inspiration that literally descended upon me almost two years ago, while I was holding Nuggey in the bathroom, that has completely revolutionized my parenting. When I keep this truth in mind, I find it as easy as apple pie to stay calm in the midst of toddler chaos.
I remember that I'm gonna miss this.
It was dark, during the end of bathtime, and Prince Charming was gone. I was doing dinner, baths and bedtime myself those days, as my husband worked late. It had been, undoubtedly, a long day with the kids. Big Mac was three, Nuggey was one and a half and Small Fry was a baby. It is as clear as day still, this memory.
I was sitting on the toilet, drying MckNugget off after his bath. Small Fry, unable to roll, was sprawled on the floor of the bathroom on some towels, wearing nothing but a diaper and a grimace. Big Mac was still in the tub. He was squawking to get out and Small Fry was bellyaching for attention. But I slowly wrapped Nuggey up in his towel, determined to stay calm, and cuddled him in terrycloth. I slowly rocked him back and forth in my arms and sang Rock-a-bye Baby to my second born.
As I wrapped up the song, I prepared to sit Nuggey up and attend to the chaos that was the other children. After all, there were baths to finish, teeth to brush, diapers to put on, jammies to find and beds to tuck children into. But as he sensed me about to right him, Nuggey tossed his wet head back in my arms and looked up at me. "Uh-gain!"
So I sang Rock-a-bye Baby one more time, but I told him it would be the last. Yet when I finished, he begged again for more.
I didn't want to do more. I didn't want to sing to him one more time. I was tired. Tired of children, tired of singing, tired of the day. I just wanted it to be over. But then suddenly, as if fairy dust was sprinkled from the heavens right onto my tired head, the entire reality of my future set in.
I'm gonna miss this.
I looked down at little Nuggey, his damp eyelashes long and dark batting at me, his tiny bottom cradled in my hand, his soft, chubby legs thrown over my arm, his body entirely dependent on mine as I held him in my lap, and I could see the future. Nuggey, a grown boy, sporting a football jersey and facial hair, walked out of the bathroom. It was going to happen, and soon. And while I knew there would be joys with that time in my life, when our young children are teenagers and beyond, it struck me like a ton of bricks.
When that time comes, I'm gonna miss this.
When Nuggey comes home from college, barely speaks a word to me and hibernates in his bedroom all summer, I'm gonna miss this. As my mind fast forwarded to the future, I knew that at that moment, I would give anything for 20 year old Nuggey to be a toddler again, just for one more hour, so I could rock him and sing while I stroked his wet head.
And here, years earlier, I was being given my wish. I was able to rock Nuggey, a nearly helpless babe in arms, one more time.
Given a new perspective from which to see, I sang Rock-a-bye Baby as many times as Nuggey would let me that night. Eventually Small Fry found her hands and started admiring them, and Big Mac grabbed a new tub toy. And I relished that time with my son in my arms, knowing that soon enough he would be all grown, and my arms would ache to hold him like a baby again.
I'm gonna miss this.
My mind cannot help but wander to those parents who have lost children. What on earth would they not give to hold their children again, even for a moment. I bet they would not complain about having to sing Rock-a-bye Baby one more time. Rather, they would probably give their right arm to sing it ten million times until their voice was hoarse and their eyelids closed in slumber.
And women with empty wombs who long and pray and ache for children? What honor am I doing them if I take for granted the fact that I have children, young children who are begging me to cuddle them, sing to them. I will love those women who long for a baby by loving my babies and not taking them for granted.
So, I determined right there and then in the bathroom to try to be ever thankful for the moments I do have with my children. I will not wish away their young years, always hoping to get more laundry done or other children dried off. I will relish each kiss, hug and song. I will leave their childhood behind with no regrets, no "I love you" unsaid, no cheek unkissed, no request to "Cuddle wif' me!" turned down. Even as the macaroni flies and the Sharpie stains my table, even when there are midnight wailers and globs of Desitin under my fingernails, I know...
...I know I'm gonna miss this."
written by
MckMama
