Making It Count

Some days are more frantic than others – when no matter how hard I run after it, I can’t catch my breath, I can’t find where I last placed my sanity, and a quick whiff under my arm tells me I’ve forgotten more than my first name and whether or not I had breakfast.

But there are small moments everyday where time ceases to push forward – when Baby V drinks from me while grasping my pointer finger, or Baby Dude is obliterating my cheeks in sweet toddler kisses because he “wuvs” me “so mush,” or Baby Sis is combing my hair to put her tiny pink “pretties” in it. And when my pre-teen son still grabs my hand to hold it in public?

I want to crawl inside those moments forever.

I etch them permanently to my heart, threading that feeling, that perfect moment into my brain like a braid, remembering that tomorrow is never certain, never guaranteed.

I may not have attended BlogHer this year because I was sick with a sinus infection, but what I did discover in staying home with my family is how desperate I need that one-on-one time with my family. How important that “what if tomorrow never comes” time is with them.

What is that, you ask?

What if someone who could tell time told you that today was your last day on Earth. What would you do? How would you spend it with your loved ones?

We would play like it’s our last time to play together, ever. Living fully in the moment, true and honest and a-thousand percent there.

Oh-so-many kisses and hugs, to the point of skin aching and lips hurting.

No arguments, no angry voices, because I wouldn’t want my last words that left my lips to be ones filled with anger and disappointment.

Pushing aside those dreaded parental must-do’s that seemingly prevent me from doing all the want-to’s with my sweet kids and husband.

Despite feeling sick and taking medication, taking the kids out to have fun – to laser tag and SeaWorld – only to find the fresh air, fun time with the kids and laughter were better healers than your decongestant.

feeding ducks at SeaWorld San Antonio

Instead of laying the baby down after she nurses herself to sleep, letting her sleep on my chest, snoring away. She won’t always be small enough to sleep on my chest forever.

Holding onto my husband in the kitchen, instead of letting him pass me by, so I can embrace him and bury myself in his neck, like I have on the tarmac before deployment.

Going to bed before I’m tired, just so I can cuddle my co-sleeping kids and husband in the dark, counting my blessings through trickling tears.

Spending four solid hours in the kitchen preparing dessert for dinner, going overboard with how much I made, and the surprised looks on their faces has got to be one of my most favoritest things I have ever done as a mother.

Three more weeks of summer, and I’m going to make them the best three weeks I can, even if they aren’t our only three weeks left on this earth, and even if my husband has gone back to work. I live for their sweet faces, their love, admiration, and delicious hugs.

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