Every mom has said it whether they mean it or not. This is the last time…
This is the last time that I’m going to tell you to put on your shoes. Okay, but this is the last time I’m going to read this story. This is the last time I’m going to ask you to go to time out. This is the last time…. I’ve been saying that a lot lately. Partially because I am exhausted and don’t have the willpower to follow through with a consequence the first time my kids don’t listen. And partially because my kids are at the age where when they find something they like and it MUST happen a bazillion times in a row. I was beginning to feel drained. I was annoyed. Why do I have to keep saying and doing things over and over and over? Then, there was a moment. A “huh, I haven’t had to do that in a long time” moment. The moment I knew that eventually every phase will end. In that moment, I realized that there really will be a last time. A last bottle A last binky A last wet slobbery toddler kiss A last milk drunk baby snuggle A last middle of the night nursing session A last time buckle of the 5 point harness A last stroller ride A last swaddle A last up all night A last first tooth A last first rice cereal A last first step A last first word A last first day of school A last battle over what to wear A last mommy will you fix this A last kissed boo-boo A last mommy help me A last tie my shoes A last babysitter A last tuck me in A last goodnight kiss They won’t be little forever. Everything eventually ends because we are always changing. Everything is a phase. And while I will celebrate the last time my toddler bites me, I will mourn the day when I put my little boy down and never pick him up again.
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Today, we spent a wonderful morning at our neighborhood park. The slides, the swings, the play-set. It is all so magical and fun for you. You could spend hours here. I want you to remember this feeling. I want you to remember how much you loved playing at the park. I want you to remember the feeling of joy from simply swinging before your not yet grown body is surging with grown-man hormones. I want you to remember what it felt like to slide as fast as you could, to swing as high as the sky, to dig a hole in the sand all the way to China. I want you to remember.
Because one day you will be a teenager. One day, you will look at a park completely differently. You might see it as a way to express your independence. You might see it as a way to rebel without being caught. You might see it as a place to experiment with cigarettes or alcohol. You may see it as a place to dispose of the evidence. You might see it as a place to spraypaint disgusting artwork and naughty words that your three year old self would disapprove of. Remember. Remember how much you were confused by the dirty pictures. Remember that we had to go home early because mommy didn’t need you to learn about the human body in that manner. Remember how hurt you were when someone destroyed your favorite toy? The alligator that rocked back and forth? Remember? Today was a blessing. Today you were young. Today you enjoyed being outside and playing with your brother. Today was good. But you are not the only three year old who will ever play at this park. There will be more coming every day. Those children deserve a park to play at as well. They deserve to have a day as wonderful as today. They deserve to remain young. To not have to slide down a slide covered in dirty pictures. To play in sand not littered with cigarette butts. To play. To just be little. Remember. |
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AuthorI am a writer, a crafter, a DIYer, a mom, wife, a daughter, a professional, and whatever I decide to be tomorrow. While I spend most of the day being called mama, I am much more than that. Archives
June 2018
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