I have a friend who is nearly my age, but not quite (I’m 39), but she is the mother of two young children under three, whereas mine are all over fourteen. She came to parenthood late and with a bit of ambivalence and her life with two preschoolers is often daunting and challenging. It’s not exactly what she was expecting (is it for any of us?). Been there, done that. I can’t help but feel a sense of nostalgia and longing when she talks about life with kids under foot, and I long to give her the worn-out advice—enjoy it while you can! They grow up so quickly, you’ll soon be missing and craving these days when they are younger…
I want to tell her to appreciate that they are under foot and following her around constantly asking questions and chatting, soon she will be pacing the floor wondering where they are and why they’re late—calling around town, trying to track them down…
When she complains over having to read that worn-out story one more time, I want to tell her to cherish it, before long the story times stop and she will miss those long cuddles over memorized stories and sticky pages…
Hearing complaints of being woken in the night by crying babes and tots, I want to tell her that soon she’ll be waking to find that they have stuffed their beds with pillows and snuck out, and she’ll be wishing there were home safe, calling for her from their sleepy dreams…
I want to tell her all the things I miss:
Packing lunches and drawing little pictures on the bags
Volunteering at school
Family meals where everyone is present at the same time
Cuddles and hugs
Bath time
Make believe
Singing silly, made-up songs
Getting down on my knees to explain things while the child actually listens
Playing in the park
Sloppy, sticky kisses
Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m absolutely fine with being a mom of teenagers. In fact, I think I’m learning and getting pretty decent at it. But there’s nothing like those early childhood years—enjoy every messy, clingy minute while you can…