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Thursday, August 9, 2012

The Art of Being



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

Maybe that's why it took 3.5 years of mom life for this mommy first to happen.

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.

When the kids got up a few short hours later, they found me in the playroom. Sitting on the floor, ready to BE with them. A mommy-first.



 
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