WONDEROAK

Have you ever felt tiny fingers massage your shoulders? Have you ever pressed your face against a ponytail that smells of sunshine and wild whimsy? Have you ever listened to the off key tune from a 7yo lost in her own world? Have you ever brushed against magic and forgot in an instant what it felt like?

This motherhood it has floored me; it has undone me, and I still forget. In seconds, I forget.

When I watch them lost in a game of make believe or they tell me a story that makes me realize they’re growing up, I remember. I remember the privilege it is to be a part of this story, this unfolding adventure.

The first moment they came into the world everything was different. I touched heaven the day I touched their skin against my skin. The waiting, the agony, the pain, the bearing down, the ican’tdothisforanothersecond, the birth, and then the becoming.

But this life – it feels like dancing to a million different tunes. My attention is pulled this way, and that way, and I have such a hard time just being still. I have such a hard time resting in the moment and letting it all be.

It’s hard for me to let the crumbs be, the future be, the to-do list be, the wrestling with the demons just BE.

This season is often chaotic and busy. There are dirty clothes that are piling up on the laundry room floor; I have bathrooms and a fridge that need a deep clean. I have a writing project I need to finish; I have a body that desperately needs exercise. I have meals that need cooked, bills that need paId. I need to take moments for myself so I don’t lose my mind. I have school pickups, errands, an email I need to write, and the friend I need to call.

That’s okay; it’s normal I think, but I also don’t want to let this time slip by without being awake and noticing.

I feel like I’m blinking and they are growing while my eyes are shut.

A friend reminded me recently that it isn’t about enjoying every moment or being present every second. It’s about taking a few minutes and being entirely theirs.

It’s about finding a single moment during the day to tell the pressure, the to-do list, and the nagging thoughts to leave and to take their little hands and be. Just sit in the chair and read the story, and smell their hair and listen to their giggles. Take that little hand and go in the yard and dig for worms. Get out the puzzle, the clay, and the cookies. Turn up the music and dance.

Not for a thousand minutes, but just for a few.

Then I will take those moments and bottle them up in a jar to save in my heart forever.

I can push the button *pause* when they tell me a story. I can be fully present as they share about the things that matter to them.

I can carve this time out with all my heart because my babies are in fact ALL OF MY HEART. Five, ten, or thirty minutes is enough to make me remember the privilege it is to be their mom. It’s enough to remind them that I am forever and for always theirs.

Some days maybe I can carve out more time and more moments, but even the one, even the three minutes, they matter. They are a gift I can give even when the world and my heart and my house feel upside-down and crazy.

Nothing matters more to me than their precious faces pressed against their pillows at night, or than their blossoming hearts asking all the questions there are to ask.

This time, it runs through my fingers like sand. I ache when I look back and I ache when I look forward.

I have such a hard time settling my squirrelly heart.

But I will find my minutes.

I will find my minutes to just be, so I can remember this magic that is motherhood.

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