Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Taking in the Moment

Having one of those days where I want to dye my hair and get a tattoo.
All you ladies know- the ones which usually follow a break up or major life change.
None here.  Just another Tuesday.
I am everywhere and no where all at once. 
I cannot stay focused on one thing to save my life. 
I keep hopping from one thought to the next, and one task to the next. 

None of them having to do with anything.
Then this thought: I haven't written in a while maybe its time.
Its hard to write after you haven't for a while.
Nothing seems to flow, or even make sense. 
I wish I could do it more often, wish I remembered, wish I felt like it.
So many emotions today, for no apparent reason.  
I am trying to just go with it.
Mostly fear.
FEAR, FEAR, FEAR that evil and corroding thread of my existence.
I have a full plate these days.
Between work, the kids, the house, the husband...he always seems to come last.
As do I.
But we are working on that...still.
But, I had a really nice evening with Logan last night.
He has a been a bit of an a-hole lately.  
Yes I said it.
No other way to describe it. 
But last night I spent time with him. 
And that is something that this babe needs MUCH more of.
More than I give him.
More than I have the patience for.
And I was reminded of that last night. 

Not the kind where we are in the same room and I am on my phone or watching TV, and he is next to me playing and saying look Mom... I half halfheartedly peel  my eyes away from 
my IG feed and say "Oh yeah" at whatever it is he is showing me.  Not really paying attention.
But this time it was the real kind.
He didn't want to read with me when I first asked him.  
He said "nope" and he sat on the floor playing.
So I grabbed a book and emphatically started to narrate, to get his attention.  It worked.
He immediatly stood up and looked away from his super heroes, and crawled up and took a seat in my lap.
I read him "Brown Bear, Brown Bear".  
Watching one of his super heroes clenched tight in his hand, start to loosen, and I felt his wound little body begin to relax. 
He started to move slower, his voice got softer, he got sweeter.
Usually he is whirling about, at speeds unmentionable all the time until he collapses.  
Reasons why our nightly reading needs to be a ritual.
Then I asked him to put the book away and get another one that he would like. 
"No you do it, I am busy" 
His new favorite phrase.
So I asked again in the same gentle voice, he snatched the book and put in softly on the shelf.
He said "I want the caterpillar book!"  "Okay buddy get it"
"I dont see it!!!"
I pointed "Its right there on the shelf"
He brings it to me and crawls in my lap again.
I read to him the Hungry Hungry Caterpillar with great emotion of course, that's how you are supposed to read to kids-they get so excited its adorable. 
He turns to look at me with a huge grin on his face everytime I say a higher number: "FOUR strawberry's!"
Normally after story time he hops up and heads to his bed.
And last night he stayed. 
He rolled over to face me with his head in my arms, cradled like a baby.
We sat there and looked into each others eyes and just talked. 
I don't really think I knew the meaning of what it means to connect with someone until now. 
Because that is exaclty how I felt, connected to him.
I stared into his eyes... I asked him questions, and I really listened to the answers. 
I asked him questions about his answers, and why he said them.
I told him that he needed to stay small and not grow up so I could hold him like this forever. 
He said okay, he would.<wink>
At that moment, I had reprieve from all of the " I am not doing it good enough" thoughts.
And right then and there I was doing it right.
I had no doubts.
We needed that time.  
We need it everyday.
But it doesn't always happen.

And then I remembered to take in the moment.
That exact moment.
And I focused on all the little details I noticed in that moment.
The way he smells.

The softness and shine of his little blonde head.
His tiny  fingers, still look the same as they did when he was one.
How long and dirty his little boy fingernails are, oh wow I need to cut them where are those nail cli- STOP back to the moment!!
I notice how small his legs are, and how he has his Dadda's crooked toes.

And it occurs to me.....he is only 3.  
He is still so small, and so innocent, and tender. 
I sometimes forget that. 
Then I think back to the times I get impatient with him, because I think he "should know by now", and my eyes well up and I get that lump in my throat from holding back tears.

He has only been on this earth 3 1/2 short years.
And in that time he has learned to walk, talk, run, sing, dance, and do all kinds of things with his physical body. 
And THAT is A LOT of things.
And I so proud of him because of it.
He doesn't have to know how to spell his name or say his ABC's perfectly, or act like a big boy all the time for me to feel this pride for him. 
It exists simply because he does.
And that is enough to make my heart full for a very long time. 

 Now an inordinate amount of pictures for your viewing pleasure...

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