It is hard during the madness of life to stop and realize how blessed we are for all the little things in our lives. I have often thought that it is the "big" things that matter, whether thinking about compatibility with my spouse or the beauty of having my children, but I realized this weekend that it is the little things that are the most precious jewels.
There is no doubt that I know my husband better than anyone else on this Earth does and that he, in reverse, is more in tune with me than any other human being. This is due largely in part to the small everyday actions and words that only I get to see. When the walls of inhibition come down, truth shines as bright as the sun, and I happily bask in all of its glory.
This epiphany hit me on Saturday when I was, of all times, loading dishes. This is far from the romanticized version of when self reflection must occur but is the reality of every busy wife and mother out there. There is no designated time for inner dialogue to occur but, instead, it is grabbed every second possible. As I was loading sippy cup number 37 into the dishwasher and cursing under my breath about the ridiculous amount of plastic valves (moms, you know what I'm talking about) that I constantly have to pull off and put on these cups, I suddenly felt like my breath was knocked out of me when I came to understand that one day I will miss this in my house. I realized that one day all too soon my children will be grown enough to be independent. While I want more than anything for them to reach this stage and be happy and successful, there is a part of me that will yearn for their babyhood and youth. I can already feel it coming. Right now I am the center of their universes but, pretty soon, I will be eclipsed by their friends and personal interests. It will no longer be awesome to hang out with mom and go swimming but instead an activity done to quiet the guilt of growing out of needing mom.
I remember when I was little how I would always say yes when my mom asked me if I wanted to go to the store with her. Many times I didn't want to go at all but worried that it would hurt my mom's feelings if I said no. In hindsight I realize that she was most likely offering so as to not hurt my feelings even though it would have been easier to go alone while I was agreeing to go so as to not hurt her feelings. I guess that is symbolic of true love in its most raw form; sacrificing to instill joy in the ones you love.
While I am over the stage in my life where I am growing and nursing babies, there is a part of me that looks back with nostalgia on a phase already completed. Never again will I feel the joys of a baby's first kicks while developing. Never again will I cheer with joy for the first steps. Never again will I shed tears for the first boo-boo. I find that as Macey reaches her milestones I am so conflicted. The mom side of me is so proud of her while the Kim side of me weeps because I know that it is MY last time experiencing that ritual.
When my children are grown and gone it is their idiosyncracies that I will miss the most. The big, obvious things about them-their love for other people, their sense of humors, their smiles- will stay with me. It is their sippy cups and spit-up that I will miss the most.
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