It’s an overused motif, really. But every mother has some secret locked away – a confession waiting to be read.
And, after two years of blogging, I suppose it’s my turn.
Of all my life’s choices, I wish I had mastered something so simple – so vital to parenthood.
Before children, I never learned to savor the moment right in front of me.
Truly, when children arrive, you don’t have time to fix all of your flaws – or, in most cases, any. You are lucky to escape the house with your clothing intact and unstained. And even when your child is no longer permanently latched to you, your eyes become permanently latched to them.
And time feels like sand slipping through chubby little fingers.
That outfit you saved for a special occasion no longer fits your child.
That sweet phrase you heard mispronounced at least 1,000 times is finally corrected.
That adventure you thought could be replicated is no longer within reach.
Most recently, the pain of regret struck me at the kitchen counter. My daughter had pressed her plastic pink teapot into my leg, just behind the knee. Play with me, Momma.
Only, I couldn’t. I was cleaning.
But five minutes later, the disheveled, empty playroom was a sobering reminder. Two teacups were still perfectly stacked – still unused.
The moment will pass if you don’t seize it.
So, today, I have cleared my afternoon for tea with my little people. We will wear fancy scarves, we will sit in ridiculously small chairs, and we will taste the sweet treats of life.
Two children. One mother. And the endless crumbs of love.