Hold On

"Holding moments with the depth of care." V. Bunyan

My younger son gives the best hugs, they make me feel loved and needed.  When he locks eyes with me and reaches out, his little arms wrap me up and his chin rests perfectly in my shoulder. He turns his head to the side and settles in for the best squeeze of your life.  He is holding on tightly to the only moment that exists, the present. The moments that fill up my day are precious and challenging.  In the morning we all snuggle in bed together and I am awakened with sloppy wet kisses.  My older son cradles my face in his hands, peering into my eyes and says, "Good morning Mom, what are we doing today?"  The boys start giggling and playing, knees and elbows soon find their way into my neck and we are up.  As I drag myself from the warm bed, glancing at the clock's earliest morning hour, my day begins.  Breakfast, clean up, playtime, clean up, lunch, clean up, nap time, playtime, clean up, dinner, bath time and bedtime.  On my busiest and most stressful days, I try to look through the eyes of my boys.  I have to refocus my impatience, frustration and anger into another emotion quickly. I want to show my boys happiness, kindness, thoughtful, patient and caring ways to live and to act. Meltdowns, tantrums and whining happen and are inevitable, finding a way to listen and talk, explain while disciplining, to living truthfully by good example.  Showing and feeling love is the best gift of all.

Balancing work, child care and school schedules,  errands, meals, and endless laundry fills up all of my extra time. But the in between moments are the most important, first words, story time, coloring, spelling, baking, walks and surprise visitors. Take time to notice your surroundings, feel the wind on your face, enjoy a warm cup of hot chocolate as you watch the trains and cars pass by.  When I look back on my life, I want to remember playing peek-a-boo, hide and seek, singing songs, dancing, building and stacking blocks, riding bikes and family dinners.  Daily life can be a struggle, but slowing it down, living and really attending to each moment, make it linger and the memories will imprint on your soul.

Nobody said it was easy, no one ever said it would be so hard.  My husband and I had a rare uninterrupted conversation together last night and an even rarer moment of alone time.  As our discussion progressed he said, "I'm just counting on things changing."  I snuggled in next to him feeling warmth through his shirt, holding on tight, bracing myself for the ride.