Friday, March 27, 2009

"Let them be little..."

Some days I'm tired (okay most days I'm tired) and I often overlook the seemingly insignificant Jack’s wonderful hands, or his chubby feet, or his perfect little face with beautiful eyelashes...and I realize, that he won’t be this little ever again.

It’s easy to let the trials of the day overwhelm me…and to get frustrated when Jack throws food, or doesn’t want to take a nap, or spills his drink on the new floor, or smudges little hand prints on the clean glass…but it’s in these moments that I must slow down, and enjoy him being a messy, determined, funny little boy!

So here is my homage to little, 15 month old Jack…(I never want to forget him being little…)

This made me think of a poem that my Mom has hanging in her house, Wet Oatmeal Kisses:
One of these days you'll explode and shout to all the kids, "Why don't you just grow up and act your age!" And they will...
Or, "You guys get outside and find something to do -- without hurting each other And don't slam the door!" And they don't.
You'll straighten their bedrooms until it's all neat and tidy, toys displayed on the shelf, hangers in the closet, animals caged. You'll yell, "Now I want it to stay this way!" And it will...
You will prepare a perfect dinner with a salad that hasn't had all the olives picked out and a cake with no finger traces in the icing and you'll say, "Now this is a meal for company." And you will eat it alone...
You'll yell, "I want complete privacy on the phone. No screaming, Do you hear me?" And no one will answer.
No more plastic tablecloths stained. No more dandelion bouquets. No more iron-on patches. No more wet, knotted shoelaces, muddy boots or rubber bands for ponytails.
Imagine.... a lipstick with a point, no babysitters for New Years Eve, washing clothes only once a week, no PTA meetings or silly school plays where your child is a tree, no car pools, blaring stereos or forgotten lunch money.
No more Christmas presents made of library paste and toothpicks, no wet oatmeal kisses, no more tooth fairy, no more giggles in the dark, scraped knees to kiss or sticky fingers to clean.
Only a voice asking, "Why don't you grow up?" And the silence echoes: "I did".

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