And another

"Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it may not always be so. One day, I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want, more than all the world, your return."

I read this the other day on a blog that I recently discovered thanks to my friend Kenna. I don’t know who said it, but it resonated with me. I’ve noticed, since becoming a Mom, that much of my time is spent doing mundane, every day tasks and it is easy for me to get fed up with the “Normal day” routine. But time goes by quickly. Henry is 4. He started taking showers and is washing himself. Our days of taking baths together have passed. He is starting to read and some day soon I wonder into his room and find him with his face in a book and no desire to snuggle up for our bedtime stories. Pretty soon he will sleep in on the weekends and our Saturday mornings together watching cartoons and eating cheerios will be over. Soon he may not be interested in baking cookies with me or painting our faces like cats or pretending that we are being chased by pincher trucks on the ride home from Gigi's house. But for now he still holds my hand and buries his face in my thigh when he is nervous. And he still likes for me to rub his feet after we turn the lights out at bedtime. He still likes to sit on my lap whenever we eat dessert and he still calls for me at night when he has a nightmare. With all my might I am fighting the tendency to go into autopilot on a Normal Day. I’m pretty sure, in the end, they will be the days that mean the most.