Busy is my middle name. It takes A LOT for me to not work first thing in the morning – in fact the only times I don’t are if I either mandated it as an “off” morning for myself or I am not at home and therefore have been forcibly removed from my to do lists. I’ve never been good at waking up and just being present for my kids – cooking, cuddling, playing, etc.
Today I did. This morning rather than toss Max his clothes and yell at him to get dressed while I try to do some dishes before Owen comes out of his room like the kool aid man, I sat. I sat next to him and helped him get dressed, I let him obnoxiously play with my face and hair and poke at me as only kids do.
When Owen woke up I cooked him eggs and sausage and while he was eating those, put scones in the oven.
It’s not that I don’t enjoy these moments – I greatly do. I just have a very strong drive to constantly accomplish and It takes a lot of willpower for me to shut that part of my brain down and just “be” with the boys. I think it’s why I like day trips and getting outside so much – it forces that part of me down automatically and I can recharge without guilt.
Does anyone else look around at the toys all over the floor at the end of the night and just think something along the lines of “fuckfuckfuckityfuck?”
I clean them up every night as I grumble to myself because there are still dishes in the sink, laundry that needs folded, people that need replied to, etc etc.
You know how you can be on facebook or the internet and just spiral down a rabbit hole and somehow wind up in the comment section for something controversial? Well sometime in the last year I wound up in that place and read something that seared into my brain and that I think of almost daily.
It was an article about losing a child, so I expected there to be heartbreaking experiences written about – but none so eloquently stated as the father who dumps his son’s legos on the floor in his living room, and then leaves them there to step on to feel as if his boy was still there.
That hit me in a way I was not prepared for.
Daily, I try to get Max to pick up his legos. Every now and then he does right away, but usually he grumbles, says something dramatic like “this is going to take FOREVER” or “I can’t, I’m too sick (insert fake cough here).” and then I have to remind him that I will absolutely vacuum them up in a hot second if he doesn’t pick them up right now.
When we love someone, we often take their presence for granted. It’s not a fault – it’s normal! They are with us every day and we so easily focus on the messes they make when they make a sandwich, the toys strewn about the house, the water on the floor in the bathroom.
As I look at the pile of legos on the floor, I am reminded that if something were to happen to this beautiful, intelligent, and kind hearted boy, that I would be that dad. I would have tears rolling down my face as I stepped on one more lego, to somehow put the pain of loss into something tangible, and hope that my brain was tricked even for a millisecond and that no loss had ever existed.
I am a huge believer in perspective. I think that it is the key to happiness in many ways. We so easily lose sight of all that we have as we get bogged down in daily stress. I allow my boys to make gigantic messes as they play, and do things other mothers would probably wag their finger at me for because I can see the pure joy on their faces as they roll around in mud in the backyard or something similar. I need to know that if something were to happen, that they lived their best lives, had the most pure and joyous childhood that I had the ability to provide.
I checked my perspective this morning while thinking about the mothers, the fathers, the siblings of those who lost a sweet child in the latest school shooting yesterday. This blog is not about gun control because frankly, I don’t know what I can do in the face of people who are so afraid that the government will strip them of their arms that they see children dying as an unfortunate side effect to “freedom”. It’s not a black and white issue and requires very serious reform – BUT – it’s not my point here today.
My point here is to remind myself and others how much we have. It’s so easy to forget, and after losing a loved one to suicide when I was a young teenager, I promised myself that I would never take anyone or anything for granted again. Read firsthand accounts of refugees, seriously look at the faces of those who have lost a child, read words dripping with regret from someone who thought “it” (whatever that may be) would never happen to them. Feel what they feel, embrace it, let it flow through you, and remember. We owe it to them, to our children, and to ourselves.