Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Mornings are crazy with little ones in the house. It's an up at 6, running around getting breakfast, finding homework backpacks and shoes. It's a "your going to be late" "don't forget your lunch" kind of rush that starts over every day. Once Lauren is off to school, then it's a empty the dishwasher, re-load the laundry, feed Reece breakfast, "don't touch that", "don't throw food", "be soft with the animals", kind of day. With the hussle and bussle of just taking care of kids, we (or, maybe just I) get overwhelmed with the doing of parenting and not so much of the feeling of it. I worry so much about being a good mom and making sure all of the functions of motherhood are done properly, then sometimes I forget to look at these little people and just love the moment. I feel bad that I am not doing crafts with the kids everyday, or I am not going on some new adventure with them. I want to build memories and I worry that I am not. But it's not the going and the doing that the kids really want. It's time. Your time. It's when I turn off the T.V when Lauren starts talking about her day. Or when I walk away from the computer when Evan asks me to read to him. It's taking the time in the middle of vaccuming the house to hold Reece on my lap and singing "The Ittsy Bittys Spider." It's looking at my kids in the eyes when they are talking to me, and letting them control the flow of the conversation.