Something strange happened to me the other day. A moment in time where I had actually remembered thinking about consciously wanting to remember something.
Let me back up.
When the baby is finally here you think, whew thank goodness this baby is here. You waited nine long months and now this wiggly thing is here. Ten fingers, ten toes, healthy lungs and the smell of baby you
have been waiting for.
Then you are up all night thinking I cannot wait until this baby sleeps through the night.
That turns into I cannot wait until this baby crawls.
I cannot wait until this baby walks ...
I cannot wait until this baby can dress himself ...
I cannot wait until this baby
Talks
I wonder what their voice will sound like
Buckles himself in the car
Goes to school
Rides a bike
Learns to read
Finds friends
Graduates
Gets a job
Drives ...
Then one day you are pulling out of your own driveway and you wave to each of your two once squirmy babies in their own respective cars and they wave back and you drive away and start to tear up.
There was that moment in time.
I actually remember holding a little baby and thinking ... wow ... I cannot believe one day this baby will drive and do all things.
Because now you wonder
Where are the snuggles
Where are the little voices sayin “mommy”
Where are the boo boos that go away with a kiss
The hugs
The bedtime stories
The tiny fingers
The Eskimo kisses
The playground days
The warm carefree days on the beach
The dancing in the rain
The tickles until they cry with laughter
The games of hide and seek
The wonderful curious questions because the world is awesome in their eyes ...
I remember holding a sleeping baby and taking a deep breath and promising myself to always remember how that feels and smells.
I still remember.
That moment pulling out of my driveway, waving goodbye to my two seemingly too grown up, too fast children ... I remembered.
All too well ...
