I can feel these precious moments with our Baby Love just slipping through my fingers. Desperately I am trying to hold on tight and get every last memory out of the moment. The milestones are no longer documented on a monthly basis. We aren't tracking development in a hawk like manner that we did for the first 12 months. Yet now more than ever I am reaching for scraps of paper to write down a memory that I can't bear the thought of losing.
The sentimental poems about leaving the dishes for later because hugs won't always be in abundance in a short period of time, blah blah blah, have always rubbed me the wrong way. In my mind keeping a pleasant and clean home provides a safe and relaxing space for creativity to blossom. Today I realized what my sentimental ode to childhood moments would look like and it explains the reason I am so tired. As my son followed me around the house, periodically asking to be held, I held him tightly. When he rested his head on my shoulder, I cuddled and rocked him. Never did I think that there wasn't time for these acts of love. As he nuzzled into my neck and began to play with my hair I began to make lists. Not of what needed to be done, but of ways to extend our closeness. And now that he is down for a nap I turn the speed up a notch and those dishes still got done. The house is picked up, clothes put away, stroller collapsed. Check, check, check. Because for me, the ability to truly dwell in those moments becomes more natural when I power through his down time. But that is just me. I am sure there are many type A personalities that would relate to my sentiments, and tons of you who wish I would just give it a break. But these moments are so precious, and I simply can't let them escape because part of my mind is elsewhere.
As we walked, no stroller just a genuine stroll, hand in hand to Starbucks. We pointed out the cars and birds, talking about what sounds they make and my breath caught a little in my chest. I heard my heart whispering to capture every element of this moment. I took a long deep breath, memorized the scent of the day. Dwelt on the smallness of his little hand in mine. Took a visual picture of what he was wearing, what I was wearing, what the world around us looked like. In that moment I knew that this scene would never repeat itself again and so I captured it earnestly. It is forever encased in my mind and I know that when I am old and gray I will be able to pull it up and relive every little detail as though it were yesterday. And onward we go, new memories to make and moments begging to be captured. And capture them I will, piece by piece.
The sentimental poems about leaving the dishes for later because hugs won't always be in abundance in a short period of time, blah blah blah, have always rubbed me the wrong way. In my mind keeping a pleasant and clean home provides a safe and relaxing space for creativity to blossom. Today I realized what my sentimental ode to childhood moments would look like and it explains the reason I am so tired. As my son followed me around the house, periodically asking to be held, I held him tightly. When he rested his head on my shoulder, I cuddled and rocked him. Never did I think that there wasn't time for these acts of love. As he nuzzled into my neck and began to play with my hair I began to make lists. Not of what needed to be done, but of ways to extend our closeness. And now that he is down for a nap I turn the speed up a notch and those dishes still got done. The house is picked up, clothes put away, stroller collapsed. Check, check, check. Because for me, the ability to truly dwell in those moments becomes more natural when I power through his down time. But that is just me. I am sure there are many type A personalities that would relate to my sentiments, and tons of you who wish I would just give it a break. But these moments are so precious, and I simply can't let them escape because part of my mind is elsewhere.
As we walked, no stroller just a genuine stroll, hand in hand to Starbucks. We pointed out the cars and birds, talking about what sounds they make and my breath caught a little in my chest. I heard my heart whispering to capture every element of this moment. I took a long deep breath, memorized the scent of the day. Dwelt on the smallness of his little hand in mine. Took a visual picture of what he was wearing, what I was wearing, what the world around us looked like. In that moment I knew that this scene would never repeat itself again and so I captured it earnestly. It is forever encased in my mind and I know that when I am old and gray I will be able to pull it up and relive every little detail as though it were yesterday. And onward we go, new memories to make and moments begging to be captured. And capture them I will, piece by piece.
Post a Comment