Toby will be 11 months old soon and today I had a thought about how much of my life and my being, my identity has been only determined by Toby as of late. When I run into people that I haven't seen in a while they ask "how is that boy of yours" or the conversations that I find myself having are related to what Griffin or Toby are doing. Today I was at Port of Play, where people can take children to have an indoor and dry place for their children to play and there were two women there who stood out from all the other mothers that were there. Their hair was done nicely, they were dressed fashionably, one was wearing ridiculously high heels, which she eventually had to take off to be able to play with her child and they were both fit and thin. And I took a moment to notice that a large majority of the other mothers in the place were staring these two women down from head to toe... you see most the other mothers there had the "frumpy" mother look to them. Almost every single mother was wearing a hoodie, or a fleece jacket and tennis shoes. Most were over weight or had weight they probably wished that they could shed from carrying their child to term. And I couldn't help but ponder on the fact that as a mother (realizing that I am extremely new to this identity and only have one small child) why it is that so easily we wrap our entire identity into that which is our children. I fear of, and strive not to, loose my passions that once defined me. My goals, my dreams, my direction in life that pulled me towards an existence that left me full filled with life. Instead of losing those I want to share those passions and dream with my children as they explore and develop their own! To not let the passion between my husband and I fade because we are both so caught up in the daily on goings of life, chasing kids around the house, cleaning up cheerios and spilled juice, vacuuming so the kid won't inhale anything and everything that sits on the floor... the laundry that never seems to end or the counters that are always cluttered with remnants of breakfast at dinner time. To take a moment in the undoubted chaos that can and does become life, to truly slow down and look around and cherish the moments. I fear of, and strive not to, allow the small moments of life pass by because I am so caught up in the details or the schedule... to take a Sunday afternoon nap cuddled in bed with my lil' man while he is still little instead of mowing the lawn. To spend those extra 10 minutes rocking him at bedtime while he gazes up at me rubbing my arm with his chubby hand. Or to stay by his crib with my hand on his chest as he clutches it tight, instead of worrying if I stay that will cause him to have sleep problems in the years to come.
There are so many people, or "experts" that will tell you that there are certain things to do or certain things to not do when it comes to raising your child. Well it's MY child and to me it seems foolish to give up the small moments in life that you will never get back out of fear that the "right" thing is not done.
And this thought translates to so much more in life. The small moments with loved ones, putting that report or that "to do" task down at work so that you can make a track meet for your child, or make it home to help your spouse cook dinner, or to give you extra time to be able to catch the sunset with a friend. I do not want to live my life so caught up in the moments, that I forget to live the moments.
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