From nesting to the empty nest

The other day my oldest daughter Jess sent me a text and asked me if it was too early in her pregnancy to be “nesting”. I hadn’t really thought about that phase of the pregnancy since my last child was born 17 years ago, and even at that time didn’t really think a lot about the whole “nesting” ideology. It was just a phase of the pregnancy I assumed that indicated it was time for the wee one to soon arrive.

This week I was putting the final touches on my son Eli’s senior page. While I was looking at the pictures of him as a little boy and then those of him now as a young man I started thinking about the fact that soon I won’t have any children at home. During that thought process of how quickly they have all grown up it came to mind the whole “empty nest” thing that I have heard parents talk about.

I’ve never really had to deal with those empty nest feelings because when Jessica, my oldest left home I looked at it as well I still have two more here. When my middle child Kailee moved into her own apartment as a college student, well there was still Eli at home. However, now that he will soon be graduating it has hit me like a ton of bricks that soon my living arrangements will change drastically. There will be no more sleepovers, no more kids raiding the fridge and the cabinets, no more setting my alarm clock to make sure someone is up for some kind of practice, tutoring or field trips. There will be no more staying up because I can’t sleep for all the giggling and laughing in the bedroom or sounds of a football hitting the wall.  

When you start to see your children leave home one by one you start on this journey of reflection, theories and sentimental thoughts. You wonder if you have done everything that was possible to raise your child the way that God trusted you to. You have flashbacks of memories and wonder if they are as precious in the minds of your children as they are in your own mind. You second guess yourself on occasion and punish yourself way more than what should probably be done. 

When you first bring your child home to the "nest" that you have prepared for them the last thought that you have on your mind is the day that he/she will leave that nest...that seems like a lifetime away. Ironically that day comes much sooner than what you think and when that day arrives you look back and it seems like literally a flash in time from the day you brought them home. 

I wish when I brought my children home for the first time that I realized then how important the nest was that I was creating for them. I would have taken more time to decorate the nest with memories, to pad it with more encouragement, to instill in the nest more faith and structure it with as many morals and ethics that I could. I know that I did my best to supply them with their needs of being taken care, being fed, nurtured and protected. I just hope that they realize when they spread their wings that it's okay to adventure out...well  because that's what all those years of making sure that their roots were strong were about - so they would know that their wings can spread as far as they want and they can always bring them home.

If I had any advice to give to a young mother today I would tell them this; nesting is much more than making sure there is a clean house for your child to come home to. Nesting is about the life that you create for them - providing for them and loving them - nesting is years of preparation for that day that will come when they leave the nest and make their way out into the world. All you can do at that point is pray that they take with them all that you have given to them while preparing them to leave one day.

As I prepare myself mentally and emotionally for the empty nest stage of my life I find myself wishing that I was back at that stage of nesting itself.  Life goes by quickly...too quickly....enjoy it from day one; savor every single second...whether it be the tantrums or the loveable moments; the tears or the smiles; the arguments or the get-along moments....they are all a part of it. Most of all those prepare the nest in a way that it will always be a place that they feel safe and happy when they need to come back to it.


 

What I was taught about love by a girl named Carly

When I write in my blog it’s usually….well no it’s always because I have been inspired either by someone or something that was said or done. This one is no different. The only difference with this one is having a hard time finding the words that are passionate enough to convey my feelings and thoughts on this topic. You see I have this dear friend of mine who has a daughter that she was blessed with through adoption and when Sally and her husband Josh received this bundle of joy she was named Carly. To bring you to the topic of this blog I need to tell you that months after this adoption it was discovered that Carly had Rett Syndrome. If you aren’t familiar with this syndrome please take the opportunity to bring awareness to this horrible disease:  http://www.webmd.com/brain/autism/rett-syndrome

This little girl and the journey that she would be going on would soon be a journey that through the beauty of the social media we were all allowed the privilege of being there with her. Sally updates us quite often on all the progress that this amazing daughter of hers makes, but also we are updated sadly on the battles that she has to face.

It didn’t take long for me to see that God knew exactly what He was doing by placing this precious soul that He had created into the perfect home. I suddenly and quickly became a huge fan of not only Carly, but also of her mommy and daddy. Had Carly been placed into the arms of another couple I don’t know that she would’ve been loved and provided for like she has been with Sally and Josh. Her parents, as well as those close to her became vigilant crusaders to find a cure for what Carly was diagnosed with. My heart has been touched so many times through the updates and the stories about our precious Carly. My prayers since the day she was diagnosed have been faithful in asking God to be with her and to be with her parents. I find me asking myself often – could I be as strong as Sally as the mother that she is? I’m honestly not emphasizing enough how much I stand in awe of this incredible mother.

A few weeks ago Sally posted something that struck an inspiration in me for this blog. When I tried to sleep that night her words echoed in my mind and made my heart stir with emotion. She was talking about something positive in their lives involving Carly and she said “I know that we don’t have a life that people are jealous of but…” and then she went on to speak of her latest blessings with this beautiful daughter of hers. Those words….wow! It was a defining moment for me as not only a mother, but as an individual as well.

You see to me Sally couldn’t be more wrong. The love that encircles Carly, the faith that stands strong in their belief that one day she will be healed, the caring and compassionate moments that happen within the walls of their home, the celebrations of EVERY milestone – whether it small or huge…..these things are what give so many people a reason to in fact be jealous of the lives that they live. It creates a movement in your own heart that makes you want to have that same love in your own home with your own children. Yes, I have indeed been blessed with 3 relatively healthy and happy children, but there are days…oh Lord are there days….that we try each other, days that we argue and days that we don’t always show each other that we love each other. There are days that we don’t pray as hard for each other, days that we don’t celebrate small victories or applaud achievements. It made me think to myself that when God looks into our homes…Sally & Josh’s and into mine – does He see the same love? Does He see a mother in both houses that is thankful as she should be for what she has been given or does He see a mother in one house who has been given less struggles yet is less thankful or a mother in a house that struggles daily, but yet loves her child unconditionally and thanks God for her daily? Do I love my children any less? Of course not, but Sally taught me something that day that I will always remember… The love inside of a home is not defined by having everything that is perfect according to the eyes of those looking in from the outside….the love is defined by what your love projects from the inside looking out, and in the house where Carly lives there is an abundance of blessings shining from within those four walls and that my friend is something to be envious of and to strive for in your own home.

Thank you Sally and Josh for showing me what a home of love should consist of and for giving us the example of love through your precious Carly. No your home may not be perfect, but the love inside sure is.

No I'm not crazy - I'm menopausal

As a Christian I try to not ever question the good Lord on the things that happen in my life - the good or the bad. There are times though that I have to admit that I have questions that I can't help but wonder about.
 That is where I am right now. If I could stand before Him and ask Him something it would probably be…Menopause really?? Is it really necessary? I mean I know she ate the fruit. I get that. I know that the punishment for that has transcended through time to rest of us undeserving souls…(well, most of us are undeserving).  I can take the being reminded once a month that she messed up. I survived childbirth and the mere fact that I felt like a Buick was traveling though my pelvis. But good golly this menopause is about to take me down. 
If you have lived through menopause and survived to talk about it – you deserve something….a trophy, an embroidered Frog Tog towel or a tree in your local park named after you. If you haven't experienced it yet, please let me elaborate on what you are missing.
First of all you have no control over your moods. One moment you are a peace loving, all is right with the world - you love everyone. The next minute the least little thing - like someone breathing wrong results in you wanting to burn their house and kill their dog. You get no warning - it just happens, which makes those around you walk on eggshells in fear for their safety. My children have at some level of my insane moments searched the yellow pages for a priest who does in fact perform an exorcism.  
 Then there is the memory loss. I'm not talking about walking into a room and forgetting what you went in there for. I'm talking about being mid-sentence in a story and forgetting what you are talking about! It's not forgetting to brush your teeth - it's completely forgetting to brush your hair! Half the time I have to look down just to make sure I completely dressed myself before I leave the house. I walk around half the time like a woman who doesn't know if she has found a rope or lost a horse! I'm just thankful at this point that I don't have small children because to be perfectly honest they would be left behind somewhere.
 My breaking point though? The hot flashes....OH MY STARS the hot flashes, or as I commonly refer to them as "power surges." I don't know if  there is even an appropriate wording to describe these things! It's as if my body is about to spontaneously combust in 3.6 seconds. I'm perfectly fine, minding my own business, shopping for groceries in the middle of Wal-Mart and then BAM it hits, my body starts sweating in record time, my clothes begin to cling to me and voices start talking in my head...you know the ones that tell you to mow down the lady that is taking too long to find the watermelon that is the most ripe or the freshest loaf of bread. It's like I have an out of body experience that someone is going to have to call for "a cleanup on aisle 3" because of.  
The other day at the gym (I only included the location so you would think I can actually work out in this condition) I was talking to my girlfriends Felicia and Bettina. Felicia is right there with me - about to commit herself or commit a crime (whichever comes first) over this madness. Bettina, on the other hand sat there I think somewhat alarmed at what is going to happen to her one day. She just kept repeating "Oh I don't want any of this!" Felicia and I of course are relishing in the fact that by the time our friend's body is being attacked by this monster that we will either be in a place where we will require special attention 24/7; we will be the focus of a made for TV movie on the Lifetime channel OR we will become a real life superhero because of the special powers we received because of overcoming the menopausal monster. 
We were trying to adequately express just 'how bad' this womanly stage in our lives is. I think Felicia described it best when she said "It's like you are standing there and the portals of hell open up and the fire consumes your body at your feet and rapidly makes it's way to the top of your head and you just can't get naked enough!" Yeah...that is pretty accurate.
 I have been told there perhaps there is about 2 years ahead for me to go through this...two years of my children being scared of me....two years of my fiancé Patrick questioning whether he "really" wants to marry me....two years of potential innocent victims in the produce aisle at Wal-Mart facing the random chance of being strangled over them purchasing the last bunch of broccoli...two more years of sleepless nights waking up in the middle of a power surge that results in blankets hanging from the ceiling fan and the bedroom looking like an Iraqi war zone the next morning. Am I going to survive? I really don't know. Are the ones I love going to survive? Gosh I hope so! All I do know is that one day I will hopefully know why I had to go through something that makes a person who survived Naked and Afraid look like a wimp – but Heaven help those that are trying to survive it with me!

There's this special guy named Lukie...

When I was much younger I thought that the more friends that I had the more popular that I was. It was pretty cool being in high school and thinking that you had a huge group of friends. There were different personalities and that seemed to make things more fun.
The older that I have gotten though the more I have realized that the importance of friendship is not in the quantity of friends that you have, but rather in the quality of friends that you have. I have come to the realization that the actual amount of real friends that I have…well….I could probably fit all of them into a closet. There are those friends that you see out and about and usually catch up on each other’s lives in 15 minutes. There are those that randomly call of the blue just because they were thinking of you. There are those (unfortunately) that you hear from ONLY when they want something. You have those people that you have formed friendships with years ago that drift in and out of your life and with each encounter nothing has changed – you still have that same bond. Then you have that random special kind of friend that you meet, you never see each other a lot – but when you do they have this smile that lets you know that your friendship means something to them. I have been blessed in my life to have a few like that; one of those is named Lukie. No matter where I have seen him he has had this smile – this exceptionally special kind of smile that always made you glad that your paths crossed on that day. 
Sadly Lukie is very sick and I’m not sure what God’s plans are for him. When the prognosis came down and the word spread that he wasn’t doing well at all, well there were a lot of thoughts that crossed my mind. The one that occupies my head the most though is thinking about how I never told him what a special person that he is. Some would say that we are just acquaintances…we don’t hang out, never associated in public places like functions or restaurants, didn’t go to school together….we just met one day him doing his job and me doing mine. I remember when he left I thought “well that was a very nice man.” Through the years we have encountered each other when our work paths crossed, when we ran into each other’s family at the local Wal-Mart…you know things like that. The thing about Lukie that makes him different from a lot of people, myself included, is that every time you saw him no matter where it was, he had that famous smile.  No matter what life may or may not have been dealing him that smile was there. Even now in what would be a regular person's darkest hour he still smiles and even more importantly he says "I have had a great life and I'm ready to go". Wow! To know that you have lived a good life and that the end may be near he's smiling and positive. What an inspiration he is. 
I wish that I had taken the time out of my busy day the last time I saw him to just say how much I appreciated his smile and his constant kindness. This is what people mean when they say don't wait - tell people now how you feel. 
My dad always thought a lot of his friendships in life, but he always used to tell me "Sis it doesn't matter how many friends you have in life. Life can't be measured by that. What matters though is will you have enough friends to carry you in the end?" I have never forgotten that and it has helped me to realize that even if I can only count my true friends on my hands, at least there will be 6 in the end. 
Lukie is the person that when it comes time to leave this world, whether it be tomorrow or 10 years from now will have no problem gathering enough together to carry him in the end. That's just the kind of guy he is. 
Lukie thank you for making my life more beautiful just by the occasional blessing of seeing your smile and experiencing your kindness.    

It's about more than a reflection in the mirror

I am very quickly approaching the 50 year mark in my life. With that accomplishment coming around the corner you would normally (I think) start reflecting on where you thought you would be at this point and look back at where you have come from. At this time in my life though I never thought that I would put so much emphasis on a physical aspect in that way of thinking rather than in a professional, geographical or one based on experiences and lessons learned. 

I have never been a “Swimsuit cover of Sports Illustrated” type of girl; never was Tyra Banks model material – but was cute and sweet I like think and was built okay for me suppose. I never “hated” my body and never dreaded buying swimsuits or shorts. As I aged though [especially later in life] that started changing. I am no longer the size I was many moons ago and the middle age spread got off to a running start before the pistol was even fired.

I remember one night when I was working second shift dispatching we had ordered dinner and I was starving! I ordered something like two corndogs, fries and a milkshake. My boss at the time came in a saw my rather large display of food and said “one day that will catch up with you girlie.” I scoffed at the notion and laughed at her thinking that my [sort of] petite self would ever weigh more than I did.  Now here I am looking back at all the times I splurged at the local drive-in, pretty much committed gluttony anytime I was near a fast food restaurant and how many milkshakes I have drank over the years and looking at myself in the mirror saying to myself “well she was right!”

I pretty much quit shopping for me, because to be honest there is nothing more discouraging than not being able to fit in the same size that you wore that last time you went into a dressing room. Oh the dressing room…yeah that sure isn’t where I spend much time…those mirrors are my worst enemy. I’m leaving for the beach in a few days and I literally want to cry at the thoughts of facing myself in a reflective piece of glass! I know that it’s going to take a lot of self-motivation to even get myself in a store that has swimwear. I am already dreading in itself the thoughts of walking out on the beach and imagining how many snapchats will be sent to people with me being the subject of some sort of mockery.

It’s not that I want to look this way…the way that I imagine people think of me. In fact looking down at myself I don’t feel like I’m a prime candidate for Jenny Craig or Weight Watchers – it’s that darn mirror that paints a different picture. The time will come that hopefully I will get a grip on this challenge of losing weight, but until then I have tried to put a different perspective on what I am really about.

I have learned a valuable lesson though through this transformation from a size 4 to a size 14. I look at women who have the same issue with size as myself and I think differently than I used to. At one time I looked at those ladies and thought to myself “hmmm wonder if they have always been “big”? The same way that I used to think of myself when I looked in the dreaded mirror (or as I like to think of it – a creation by Satan himself). I now though try to have a different perception of not only myself, but those other women as well that are in the same boat as me. I think about the fact that I am the same person on the inside that I have always been. I still am loving. I still love to laugh and try to be funny. I still genuinely care about people and what they go through. I still would move mountains for the people I love….none of these things have changed about me. It’s only the outward appearance that has.  So now when I look at other women I wonder to myself what they feel – are their feelings about the whole “the outside vs the inside” debate the same as mine? I wonder if they have the same insecurities. I wonder if they feel inadequate in ways that are superficial. I wonder if when they look in the mirror if they see the person that I see when I look at myself…the person who wants to look great in a swimsuit, but if I don’t I’m still the same individual – just in a bigger proportion….for now.

The most important thing that I have to remember - and that I have to remind myself of - is that as much as I hate the darn mirror, I can’t allow it to make me feel bad about myself. I have to look at the mirror and realize that what I see in my reflection only describes me – it’s doesn’t define me.

It's never too late to make sister memories

I was 15 years old when my little sister was born. By the time she had become a toddler I was well on my way into adulthood and had moved out of my family home. I missed out on so much of her life when she was growing up and it wasn’t until lately that I really have thought about the importance of the things that I didn’t get to be a part of. We never had the closeness that other sisters have because there was so much of an age difference. We never got to play Barbie dolls or dress up; we never got to have secrets that we could have taunted our brothers with and we never got to lay in bed at night giggling and talking about boys. We didn’t get to help pick out each other’s prom dresses; I didn’t get to be the overprotective sister at high school; I didn’t get to be the one that she talked to about her broken heart when some jerk hurt her.

Years have passed since our childhood and basically all the memories we have are not having those important memories together. As we have gotten older though God has blessed us with the opportunity now to somewhat make up for all that lost time. It was like one day we started calling each other more often (other than when we just needed a favor or had a question). Our relationship began to grow into the relationship that I have always envied other sisters of having. We call each other to vent, to get advice or to just tell a funny story. Regardless of what the conversation is about, with each phone call we get closer.

Somewhere along the way from the transition of the little sister that I missed out on so much with - to the woman that I am now closer to than anyone, she has become one of the strongest women that I have ever known. Recently she has had her fair share of trials that have given her both the occasion to fight or to give up – and giving up has not been an option. I’ve learned something in this bonding process; that even though I wish more than anything that I could take some credit for her being the person that she is, she did it all herself. She has spread her wings without my help and oh my goodness does she soar! I look at this woman who was once a little curly haired brat that I didn’t appreciate and now I see a woman before me that grew up without me and yet did perfectly fine!

I find myself now [even with being the older sister] that she is teaching me as much as I can teach her. She shows me different ways to be a better mom, she encourages me when I feel like giving up and most importantly she is my best friend. She holds my wings up when I get tired or flying and in turn I am there to catch her if her wings give out. We balance each other out now and age is not even a factor.

As vital as I think that the things are that we have missed out on, I think that it has made our relationship more special and stronger now than I would have ever thought possible a few short years ago. We have this bond now that enables us to pretend to go back in time and be silly like little girls if we want or to be strong the women for each other that we have learned through tough spots to be.

Every now and then I sit in the floor and let her fix my hair, we have our secrets that we pinky swear not to share with anyone else and on occasion we even talk about boys (aka men). Although we don’t lay in the bed and giggle late at night I know without a doubt that no matter what time it is – we are there for each other. Even though looking back on these memories there won’t be the images of pig tails and acne – they are even more precious to me because we are growing together now and it’s never too late in life to grow up together.

The lessons of life you learn on a softball field

My youngest daughter has spent a majority of her life on the ball field. She has a passion for softball that is as powerful today as it was the first day she picked up a bat. I have seen her at her lowest of lows and I have seen her highest of highs on that field of red dirt, chalk and grass. I always understood that passion because I saw the love that she had for the game and I knew how much her heart was in it. What I didn’t see all those years on the ball field though was the life lessons that she was learning while playing the sport that she loved so dearly. It wasn’t until Kailee got into college that I saw what she had gained through playing softball. It’s as if every aspect of her life was affected by this game that she merely was playing because she just enjoyed it, not knowing what it was teaching her along the way.

My daughter was blessed with some amazing coaches and some remarkable fellow players throughout her years playing ball. Because of this sport she learned the significance of teamwork and working together for a positive end result; that taught her that she has a responsibility to contribute to her class groups, her lab partners or the shift she works with and that as long as there is equal input from everyone, then you can accomplish anything. It goes beyond the basic concept of “teamwork” though. This sport taught her so much more than that.

Kai was always harder on herself more so than even the coaches; especially when it came to batting. Sometimes she might hit a double or even a triple and a lot of times she was walked or even worse struck out. Each time though that she didn’t get the hit that she hoped for it just made her want it more when she stepped back up to the plate. Yes, if she didn’t get it then it was disappointing; but if she did make contact with her bat and the ball – it just made it feel even better. Batting taught her focus and it taught her the will to strive harder with each chance that she had at the plate. What that taught her has helped her with the challenges of tests and finals in college. With each of her tests that she takes obviously comes the risk of failing – which no matter how hard she has studied – she still has had that happen; but with each failure she has come up swinging and determined to do better on the next one. Just like batting, if you focus on what comes at you then you can meet it head on.

She always played the outfield and at first she was hesitant about believing that she could catch balls that were out of her reach. With each practice though she strived to be braver and eventually had no problem with diving for a ball…even if it meant a concussion or a trip to the ER later. Finding that courage to push herself has now resulted in her not being afraid to try new things, harder classes or challenges in her jobs. She realized through having the courage to go for it on a pop fly that it was worth it in the satisfaction of catching it and being a hero for a moment; it’s the same with believing in herself enough to take a chance and reach higher and farther for her goals in life.

I wish I had a nickel for every hour that we spent at the ball field; for every night that we left late and every next morning that we had to get up before sunrise. She never complained…not once. It was a sacrifice that she didn’t care to make because to her it was all worth it. Those sacrifices showed her that is what life is about – if you want what makes you happy, well you have to sacrifice to achieve that.

The practices that involved sweat, sore muscles and a lot of her time, the tournaments that consisted of hours & hours in the dugouts and on the field in 100° temperatures, playing back to back games with no time to eat and being exhausted – all those things were merely the foundation of her building the characteristics of perseverance and determination that would later produce the work ethics that she has formed.   

She finally came to realize through her two coaches that pushed her that it wasn’t necessarily about who believed in her, but yet her learning to believe in herself. That gave her more courage than anything to not let failure become the bigger option. It taught her that as long as you give it all you have, then that is what matters. Those things have given her the confidence in pursuing what it is that she wants to do; regardless of whether or not anyone else thinks that she can do it.

Softball taught her that just as in life, you get out of it what you put into it. If you give what you are doing your dedication and commitment; if you work with others for the ultimate outcome; if you have faith in yourself as much as those who teach you, then you can conquer whatever it is that you set your mind to.

I always knew that I wouldn’t trade the memories of those long days at the ball field for anything, but I am just now realizing how important the sport that she loved for the simple joy of playing it, was also one of the things that shaped her most as a person. To some it’s just a bat, a ball, a glove and coming together for the purpose of winning, but to me it’s much more than that – it’s creating a person who doesn’t let striking out from time to time define you; it’s about working with others for the greater cause; it’s manifesting the character that will take you as far in life as you want to go and helping to build the courage to dust the dirt off and get back up. It’s not just a game…it’s a life lesson.

 

A letter to a new mom

The other night we had went to eat at this quaint little restaurant that we like to go to. The tables are very close together and there isn’t a whole lot of room for seating. The waitress sat us at a table next to this young couple with a small baby and what appeared to be first time grandparents. The baby was restless, somewhat fussy and at times crying. I know that they must have thought it was bothering me because every time they looked my direction I was watching them. We finished our meal before them and as we left the mother and grandmother apologized several times for the child’s behavior. While I appreciated them being considerate enough to apologize, I reassured them that it was not necessary.

After we left and during the ride home I thought a lot about that new mother and thought that I wish I could go back and talk to her. There were so many things that I would say. So with that said here is me reaching out to her.

 Dear New Mom,

The other night I had the privilege of dining with you and your (obviously) first child. I sensed while we were together in the same place for a while that you were worried that your child was causing a scene or that he was making others uncomfortable. I recognized you as a mother in myself 25 years ago and as you saw me staring at you at times; well that was me asking myself where did all the time go? Wasn’t this just me yesterday? It was me thinking to myself “oh how I wish that was me again”! I was watching in both envy and regret. Envious that you have all these years ahead of you to share and create memories. Envious that your days of hide & seek, Play Dough and Disney movies have not even begun yet. Envious because you have no idea yet the joys and the laughter that lie ahead of you.

Regret? Yes, as good as a mother as I think I have been – there are so many things that I look back now on and wish that I could change. I think back to me being in your seat with a small child crying and thinking to myself “Oh my gosh I don’t know what to do! I don’t know what you need!” I wish I could go back to that time. I wish that I could have seen then the importance of not worrying about what others thought of me and my fussy baby. I wish that I had just savored the moment as just another part of childhood and I wish that I had taken more time to cuddle you and play with you than the time I used to stress and fret over it.

I have often heard and even said it several times myself, “If I could only go back and know then what I know now”.  If I could tell you anything I would tell you to cherish every moment…the laughter….the tears…all of it, because one day you will be sitting where I was. You will be watching another young mother and thinking the same thing I was. One of the hardest parts of being a parent is when you children grow up. As a single mom I look back over the years and I wish that there was a do-over button. I would spend more time coloring, more time reading to them, more time holding them while they slept and more time listening to their stories. You have so much ahead of you and I have so much behind me. You have years to get it right and I have memories that cannot be changed.

I know that now it doesn’t seem possible – but tomorrow that little child will become dependent and he or she won’t want you to hold them in your lap; the next day they will start school and in what seems like a few weeks they will go from walking into kindergarten by themselves to walking across the stage a graduate. So trust me you owe no apologies for a fussy child because that moment is fleeting and soon you will be wishing you had it back again. My children overnight went from pulling at my pant leg to walking through a room barely noticing my existence. They went from climbing up in my lap and falling asleep to these creatures that survive on junk food and a cell phone locked in their bedroom. It’s simply a part of them letting go while you still want to hold on.

Most of all – don’t be so hard yourself. I saw the look in your eyes when your wee one was upset. Don’t fret it. Just look at it as just a part of it. Trust me there are so many wonderful days and moments ahead of you and one day you will I promise look back and see how insignificant that moment was. Today is a chance to play instead of work, to color instead of clean and to laugh instead of worry. Don’t put off these things thinking you will make up for it on another day – because someday eventually becomes today and then you look back and wish you had more time - just like me - the mother that sat in the restaurant at the table next to you one night.