We don't need to review the fact that I'm not a super-mommy kind of mama. Generally speaking I don't like to hold children. I usually weasel out of pre-bed playtime with a mumbled excuse about dishes. If I'm invited to a "play date" I seriously evaluate the caliber of the other children attending and decide accordingly. I came into this stay-at-home mom life a bit reluctantly and the call to motherhood is something that continues to take me by surprise.
I was sitting in the playroom/sunroom reading a book during nap time and got up to grab my 2pm drug of choice, Diet Coke. Mid-step over an abandoned truck I stopped in my tracks. The detrious of childhood was strewn across the floor in front of me. Primary-colored Legos, Hot Wheels, an armful of board books, a soft-bodied baby doll. Usually I make the kids clean up whatever plastic Playskool crap is covering the floor before naps, but the stress of the morning had caught up to me and I slacked on enforcement that afternoon.
I'm so glad I did.
Scanning the room, I was struck by how fleeting it all is. What a small window exists for play with blocks and dolls and crayons. I'm in such a hurry for these needy ones to tie their own shoes, to sit quietly in the car, to entertain themselves without me. When that day arrives will I long for this day when they just want to play with me? To BE with me.
I literally fell to my knees in gratitude for the hours upon hours I get to spend with these tiny people. Folks can tell you a thousand times how quickly it all flies by, but I don't think that's something you can grasp but through experience. At least not for me.