This kind of day gives me time to think about the sweetness of being a mama, my favorite thing on earth. I had the chance to rock my almost two year old in a rare moment of calm. Those are the times I feel the most like a mama. No one around, just us, a sweet baby nuzzled to my chest. No camera to capture this divine moment so I take a picture in my mind and send up a little prayer that I won't ever, ever forget this moment lent to me from heaven, this moment just the two of us share. The way she smells, still fresh from her bath the night before, the way she caresses her blanket between two fingers and finds the perfect bit of fabric to suck on until she's fast asleep.
These moments, I pray, are the ones I will remember when I'm old and gray. I will sit back, close my eyes and recount those blessed flashes in time. Because that's what they are. A flash, and then it's gone. Never to be had again. Sure, there are more around the bend, but not that one.
I like knowing that no matter where my littles go in this great big world, no matter what they do or who they become, we shared those times. Embedded in our hearts forever. An anchor for our love. I love that I had the privilege of rocking those littles, in those instances, no one else. I'm selfish like that. And that no matter what happens in this life, if we never get that house, if I never lose those last five pounds, even if we don't throw the biggest and best birthday parties, if they don't make the team, if they aren't valedictorian, those moments, seeping through heaven and graciously landing in our home, those are the moments that matter.
It was enough, more than enough, that I was their mama.
I love you, too, little buddy.