You know when the baby you've carried in your arms and close to your heart for so many months squirms and leaps from your embrace to run ahead on sturdy legs?
And then she turns from her place on the path in front of you to make sure you're still following?
It squeezes my heart with gladness and sadness.
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I went to bed with a headache last week. It was the weekend and finding myself with a little more time than I'm used to, I decided to pull out the floss and give my teeth a good work out. I admit I don't get around to doing it every day (truthfully, not even every week). It seems after settling a household and a house for the night, I don't have the time/energy/willpower to do something I know I should be doing. Something so simple. Something for me.
And so my body told me off by getting all inflamed and sore and headachy. And that made me cranky. I felt guilty that I wasn't taking better care of myself and irritable because I never seem to have the time.
And mine came at the start of a new week with a post from a good friend.
She talks about getting caught up in the moments that leave us without time to focus on ourselves and the things that really matter.
Then she wallops us on the sides of our heads and in the centre of our hearts by telling us why that needs to change.
Perspective.
Read this and you'll be sure to find yours too.
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My five-year-old is the master question-asker in our house.
"How did the world start?"
"How many seconds until I start grade one?"
and today,
"Is being a Mom hard?"
It was a sucker punch. And I'll tell you why. I don't want my kids to see that sometimes it is hard.
Call me an idealist or a delusional optimist. But I want to them to look over their grown up shoulders and see this was the greatest time. Not just for them, but for me.
The question came in the midst of an after-school car pool. During the frenzy of snack doling, seat belt buckling and rearview mirror checking. Maybe it's then she noticed a furrowed brow or a frown. And for that, I felt sorry.
"It's work being a mom," I told her. "And sometimes work is hard even when it's work that you love to do."
"So that means you love being a mom, Mama?"
I wanted to say a million things; there are a million things to say.
And even though she is the asker of huge questions, she was looking for a tiny answer.
So I gave it.
Yes.
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