Someday I won’t look at the fridge door and wonder how on earth it became covered in small foot prints; I won’t find droplets of milk here and there on the tile where a small child walked carrying an upside down sippy-cup; and I won’t plan every single thing – doctor appointments, exercise, errands, yard work – based on what will be done with my kids.
Someday, I will throw away the cardboard rings from paper-towel rolls without a guilty pause – knowing that someone in my home always wants them to make telescopes. Someday I will drive past a large field and exclaim, “Look at all those cows!” – only to realize, sheepishly, that there is nobody sitting in the back seat desperately interested in a field of cows.
Someday.
But not today.
And not for a long while yet.
1 comment:
I love your sentiments about motherhood and child raising. You certainly seem to be a "pro" at it! I have been having feelings like this more frequently lately, I guess because my daughter is getting bigger. I was watching my husband carry her on piggy back up to bed the other night and thought, "I wonder how much longer she will adore her daddy and having him do that?" And then I almost wanted to burst into tears thinking about when she will no longer want him to do that. Raising kids is a funny thing!
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