I had a moment the other night of feeling frustrated.
Of wanting my arm to stop aching.
Of wanting to be selfish.
Of wishing I had 5 minutes to myself, to go to the bathroom alone.
Of wanting silence.
Of wishing I could snap my fingers and my seemingly never ending list of chores and projects in my head would be done.
I took a breath.
I focused back to the little person needing me.
F’s big blue tired eyes met mine as he reached for me on bathroom floor beginning to cry; desperate for the comfort of my arms even though I just put him down.
A wave of guilt jolted through me.
I picked him up and brought him to me as I sat on the toilet to pee.
His plea stops as he held me close and rested his heavy head against my chest finding my heart beat.
My heart melted.
I pulled him closer to me, and walked together to the couch to nurse and snuggle for bed.
We do everything together him and I.
From the moment we wake up, to the time we go to bed.
He’s with me either in his high chair, on my lap, in the pack and play or in my arms.
He’s with me as I make breakfast in the morning.
On my lap as I let the dog out a few times a day.
On my hip as I one-handedly make lunch for B.
On my shoulder whenever he’s tired.
In his chair whenever I tackle the dishes or when I cook dinner at night.
On the floor near by exploring his baby toys throughout the day.
In the pack and play when I fold the laundry.
On my hip as we move around the house together or when we dance together.
Next me in the bed at night snuggling close and sometimes still sleeping completely on top of my chest for comfort.
In my arms as my milk quenches his hunger every few hours, day and night.
Always close to me.
Sometimes my arms and back scream at me for relief by the end of the day.
Sometimes I’m not sore at all.
Sometimes I manage to get all the chores done (because F is happy being put down) by the time my husband is home.
Sometimes I spend what feels like the whole day sitting to the point that my butt is numb and sore; the piles of unfinished chores mocking me every time we make eye contact.
So as I sat crossed legged on the couch, watching my little angel begin to doze as he nursed for bed, I mentally kicked myself for a minute for feeling frustrated.
Then I made the promise I make to myself just about every day; to cherish today with each of my children and do the best I can.
Because as F’s eyes finally completely closed; as i played with the soft baby hairs around his ears making them into a C shape, I realized this moment would be over sooner than later.
Soon he’s going to out of this stage.
He’s going to be walking, talking and holding my hand vs being in my arms all the tine.
Wanting to play and gain confidence in his body and himself; wanting to explore his world; wanting to play with his brothers.
And he will be doing those things while I’ll be observing from the side lines; being a place of security for him whenever he is needing it.
I’ll be loving each moment of growth and craving the next time he is in my arms.
I’ll be looking forward to the times we nurse in a different way, than I am now.
And even then, these moments will come to end.
Nursing with F will become less and less frequent and eventually over time end all together.
The moments when he’ll be in my arms will be when I am sitting down; yet even those moments will become scarce as he grows up.
The high chairs that are apart of our daily life, will no longer be needed.
When nap times will completely come to an end.
My rocking chair will have less frequent visits throughout the day, and eventually will be sat in with nothing but a book in hand; the of the years of rocking day after day, for nap time; for sicknesses; will be a distant memory.
They’ll come a time when someone no longer needs to hold my hand for safety when we do something.
When the toys in the baskets will change to that of older kids, and eventually be put away completely.
Our family bed will become my husband and I’s again.
My time for a managing the house and getting projects done will be easily done.
Shopping for the week will be easy.
Paying a bill on the computer or making an important phone call will take the time it was intended to do so and without interruption.
Showers will be a normality for me again, not a luxury.
Crafting for holidays will be done in hours; in days, instead of needed to be planned months ahead.
Our family rhythm will be something different.
Equally beautiful, but different.
Eventually however, the boys will leave the nest completely.
The silence of the house reminding me of the each growth; transition; each memory; the highs and lows we shared together as a family.
And I’ll be wishing I could have these moments back; I’ll be wishing I was where I am sitting now; wishing I could be reliving the moments I live today.
Wishing F would be sleeping in arms for hours.
Wishing my arms were full.
That I was still doing things mostly one handed.
Wishing I was changing diapers.
Wishing I was going through the small clothes for an outfit for the day’s fifth change of clothes.
Wishing I would wake up with the bed full again.
Wishing my boys were young.
When I get there, I hope I’ll be able to say: “I cherished the days with each of my children and did the best I could.”