Wednesday, July 31, 2013


Sometimes I forget. I forget to be thankful in all the moments.

All. the moments.

I think things like "why are you crying?" and "you liked this food yesterday, why does it make you upset right now?"

And then I remember.
I remember to be thankful for the now.

There are not that many more days where I will get to take care of, care for, and fend for my boy. He's already One. One eighteenth of the way to being an adult already. 
Won't be long (and I will have to remind myself of this when it comes time to potty train) and he won't need me to lovingly clean up his diaper. 
Won't be long until he won't want to throw the green beans and carrots and black beans on the floor- he'll want to eat them. And then he'll want to help me cook them. And then he'll drive to the store for me to buy more.
Won't be long until those teeth will all be here, and then they'll fall out, and then they'll be here to stay. Only the next set won't make him cry. And he won't be my baby any more. He'll be big.
Won't be long until he doesn't cry every. single. time. I get out the vacuum and I won't have to decide it's not worth it to have vacuumed floors right now. He may even help me vacuum. 
Won't be long and he'll eat the same foods as us, and I won't have to make baby food in the afternoons so dinner doesn't get cold if I wait to make it til later. And I won't get to feed him. He'll just eat by himself and I'll just have to watch.

Won't be long and he'll know all the words, and I won't have the daily practice of learning to understand him, study him, read him and know him to know what he wants. I won't be forced to, that is- it will be a discipline to maintain on purpose.

Won't be long and I won't have to try to figure out which clothes to put him in because of the size difference between the days he wears a cloth diaper or the days he wears a paper one. He'll have one size, no diaper, and big boy underpants. And he'll probably dress himself. No more tickling him as I change his shirt.
Won't be long until I fold laundry without him crawling into the basket and crawling over the folded piles, and I'll probably miss it- even if we do have clean, folded clothes.
Won't be long and he will be telling me what he sees in the car, rather than me asking him what he can see- hoping he understands what his mother is babbling about in the front seat. I'll hear a constant stream of chatter and it will be bliss.
Won't be long, and he won't try to eat the crayons, and the refrigerator will run out of room for pictures, and two or three will probably get in the way or fall off (again) each time we open the fridge door.
Won't be long and those little fingers will not get into stuff, and I won't get to hold him back or move him to a better spot all day long. Won't be long til I can't pick him up at all anymore.
Won't be long, and he'll be big, and he won't put his feet on the table under his high chair anymore. And I won't get to tickle high-chair bare feet.
Won't be long, and I won't have to worry about him spilling my drink, but instead, maybe worry about him drinking it all.
Won't be long until I won't get to hear a high-baby-voiced 'Mama?' on the monitor.
Won't be long and I'll actually get an answer when I ask, instead of daily daily silence every day when I ask him "did you have good dreams? What did you dream about?" He will tell me. If I listen.

It all won't be long.
He's growing too fast.
I must remember the moments, and remember to live all here in the moments. 
For they don't last long.

1 comment:

  1. Such a sweet post, and a good reminder to all of us mamas!