I sit in the quiet. The day is done, a candle is lit, and I ponder the day. Some days I end feeling rested and recharged. Some I end up feeling drained and tapped out. Others, like today, I fear I can’t soak it all up fast enough to remember.
I close my eyes and picture each of my sons. I listen for the sounds unique to this phase. I look at them play, watch them interact, try to take it all in.
Our oldest is tall, lanky, with a long torso and even longer legs. Just like his daddy. His brown hair is soft and falls haphazardly, his brown eyes are warm and mischievous. His smile turns up at the corners when he wants to tell a joke. He likes to try and raise his eyebrows. He is experimenting with the art of rolling his eyes.
I listen to his clever thoughts, his wild imagination, his endless pretending to be Buzz Lightyear battling alien robots. I hear him tell his brother how much he loves him and will protect him. I hear him use new words like “boring” and “obviously” and I know he is growing up before my very eyes. He quietly sings songs he’s learning in school while in the backseat of the car. After tucking him in, I hear our nightly back and forth of “I love you” and “capeche, boop she boop she boo.”
I feel how he hugs me around my waist now. His cheeks are still soft to the touch. He still likes back scratches at night and his favorite thing in the world is wrestling his daddy.
Our youngest is solid and sturdy, with a bit of a toddler belly hanging around. His wild and unruly hair is blonde and curly and falls in his eyes, and I absolutely love it. His grumpy face makes me burst out laughing every time I see it. He runs with the pitter patter of toddler feet and it will never get old.
New words are added to his vocabulary daily. My current favorites are, “Luh-loo” (love you) and “Mah-mee” (Mommy). His giggles erupt when I give him a silly look or catch him by surprise. He points out if things are “darrr” (dark) or “taaah” (tall). He wants to read books and “pay” at all times.
He is squishy and cozy and continues to hold my hair and suck his thumb when he needs comfort, resting his head on my shoulder. When tired, he twirls his hair too, creating mini dreadlocks that end up needing to be cut out.
I feel acutely aware of the passing of time and the need to not take one second for granted. I pray for the eyes to see, ears to hear, body to feel, and heart to know deeply these boys entrusted to me.
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This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series "Moment in Time".
Love the prayer at the end!