I lie next to him, snuggling and enjoying the feel of his wet hair against my cheek. It’s become my favorite part of the day. This evening ritual is simply a story and prayer, but it warms me somewhere deep in my soul.
I lay here thinking about how fast he’s grown. Nearly four and half, he’s no longer a baby. He’s my second and last; I’ll have no others.
Courtesy: Lisa Tarplee Photography
I reminisce about his sweet days as a baby. I wince in regret at the moments I missed while suffering post-pardum darkness his first year of life. I love that he prefers to be by my side, that he wears baseball caps everyday, and that he gives near deadly bear hugs. It makes me smile each time he says “mellalade” when he orders lemonade at a restaurant. And I think about that fact that he and I are similar in many ways, both shy, sensitive souls.
I’ve heard many times from friends who’ve walked this road before me, “Appreciate the moments you have, they grow up so fast.” In those early days of infancy, the hours seem to go by at a crawl. Time is especially slow during those midnight hours when they won’t sleep. Now I look back and realise how fast the quickly the time has flown by.
Why do we so often look back and regret all the moments missed? There’s no way of knowing that each day we might be witnessing various “last times” in our children’s lives. If I knew it was the last time he would ask to sit on my lap, would I cherish it more? If I knew it was the last time he would run for his blanket when he was sad, would I appreciate it more? If I knew it was the last day he would mispronounce a word, would I pause and listen intently to what he said?
“You know what Ian?”
“What?”
“This is my favorite time of day. I love snuggling and reading to you each night.”
The days are growing shorter to when he will no longer want me to lie here with him. I finish the story and begin to pray for him. I thank God for the gift he is to our family. I express gratitude to the Lord for all my favorite characteristics about him, thanking God for his hugs, his smile, his sense of humor and the way he tells stories. I pray about all the ways I see God working in his heart, changing and transforming him.
He eats this prayer up like sticky-sweet candy straight out of an Easter basket. Not knowing how else to express what these words mean to his heart, he hugs me tight and rubs his face against mine, growling like a bear.
Before I leave he says, “You know what mommy?”
“What?”
“You make my pillow so hot, it’s like it’s on fire!” He grumbles and flips his pillow to the other side, before lying his head down, ready for me to pull the covers up.
I chuckle and appreciate this moment, savoring it, despite it’s interruption to my nostalic reverie. Who knows, perhaps thi night was one of those “last times”?
Linking up with:
Beautiful. makes me smile!
Oh, my heart just melted! I know completely - wholeheartedly - what you mean! When I look at my kids, I gasp and cannot believe how big they are. My youngest daughter just lost her second front tooth and I could’ve cried! There’s many things I would’ve done differently when they were babies….not worry about anything but their sweet smells and coos. Yet I also love to watch them mature and change. That too is a special blessing and a priceless gift that God has given to me. We really do have the best role in the world, don’t we? Blessings to you!
Oh yes, savoring those “last times”, its good. Mine are driving and full of schoolwork, but one still likes me to put him to bed just because he loves his mama. Love that last photo!
What a sweet post! And those pics are terrific!
My oldest is four and a half, and I keep thinking about the lasts we have together. But also the first, so bright, so beautiful, looming in the horizon. Lovely words.
Oh, I know what it feels like to have that reverie broken, but so often it’s just kids being kids and we should take it just like you did - with a chuckle. Love this post.
tears
The time does go too fast. Continue to cherish the memories and make more. You are on the right track.
Keep up the God work.
This one brought tears to my eyes…what a blessing your boys are and what a blessing you are to me. I love you, Mom Fox
So very moving. I have an 18 month old, and also had post partum (well, PTSD, actually). I could sense that the time was slipping by and yet felt so … at a loss to stop what what happening. I guess I’m saying I understand. And I understand wanting to hold on to every second now.
Stopping by from Getting Down with Jesus.
Such a lovely post.
What wonderful precious moments to always have. Children grow so very quickly … enjoy each second. My youngest is 20 — time has flown… I treasure all my precious memories.
I remember consciously taking the time to slooow down to hold onto these sweet moments with the kiddos when they were super-little. I’m so glad I did. I have never looked back and regretted.
You’re doing a great job, Mom.
And what a cutie! Wow!
oh, that is one beautiful post….I have a son as bubbly and sweet as yours and he never wants to go to sleep without me by his side…kisses me on the cheeks with so much eagerness..motherhood is a gift and reading through your lines I see that you are one of the best moms in the world and a great writer too…