Friday, January 15, 2016

Yesterday Once More

Yesterday, it was warm here. Seriously warm.
RIGHT?!
Unfortunately, it doesn't matter how warm it is outside when you have a sick kid and a husband working fourteen-hour days this week; you still don't get to go outside.  It felt like I had traveled back in time a few short years to the days when I had three tiny kids in this house with me and on me all the time and I would loiter over small, outside winter chores like dumping the compost bowl or getting the mail, sucking in deep breaths of frozen air and freedom.  

Do I miss their tiny hands and fat, snuggly bodies?  Yes.  Do I miss not leaving the house for eons at a time and feeling like showers and thirty seconds outside were luxuries only to be indulged every fourth day?  Not really.

So yesterday, when I was briefly brought back to that time and the feeling that I was capable of very real, violent homicide every time someone told me to "cherish these years," (there are SO MANY better things to say to mothers of little children, like "Your children are so cute," or "You're doing a good job," or even just "Hang in there," but do not add the pressure of feeling like they have to enjoy each precious, smelly second, especially when you're viewing it through the rose-colored glasses of time, and they're just trying to survive today)... well, I was reminded how much easier things have gotten in such a short amount of time.  Our children now take out that compost bowl and get that mail, along with unloading the dishwasher and keeping their own growing bodies more or less clean.  I get to shower every day and leave the house for mile upon glorious mile of running.  

All of this made it easier to have a sickly, hacking Caedmon cling like a burr to my side, draping himself over me every time I sat down, and doing the same to Adelaide, his sometimes irritated older sister/ sometimes second mother, once she got home from school.  She was happy to stroke his forehead while reading her book and decompressing from the day, while Atticus and I raced each other from one side of the backyard to the other.
I know it's blurry, but both the photographer and the subject were running.  And look at that knee drive!
When he tired of sprinting and decided the snow needed to be attacked with a stick, I blew off the remainder of my steam with lap after lap of the yard with a book for company.
I was out there for a good hour, because I didn't have to worry about a baby rolling into a blanket and suffocating, or a toddler making snow angels in flour dumped on the kitchen floor.  So even though I sometimes miss

this

and this


and this

all you'll hear me say is a heartfelt "Hallelujah," for the phase we're in now, and a kindly, sympathetic smile for the mom with two whimpering little ones in the grocery store.

1 comment:

  1. I won't tell you to cherish the years because you already know and you're not wishing them away, etc. In reality, I'm not going to miss scraping Silly Putty out of the carpet. Kids are so cute it hurts. I want to look back and know I took a good crack at it all and loved them to bits. But I don't want to look back and not be able to embrace the right now. It's not the same as those years but it's still all mine to love. And there will still be days when you can't get out of the house. I'm always surprised by my busyness.

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