I woke up at 5:30 AM, fully intending to tackle my responsibilities. There were dishes to clean, laundry to fold, and articles to write, but then you stirred me from sleep before my alarm could go off.
“Mom! Mommy?”
With a heavy sigh, I rolled out of bed, my chilly feet meeting the cold floor. Frustration and exhaustion engulfed me. How was I supposed to accomplish everything on my to-do list now? But I took a moment to breathe before opening your bedroom door, preparing to greet you with a “good morning.”
“I hungy, Mommy! I hungy!”
I anticipated this, as it’s your morning mantra. You dashed toward me, just like you do every day, and I bent down to meet you, enveloping you in my arms.
“Good morning, sweetie! But first, give me a kiss,” I said.
Your cool, damp lips met mine, but before I could cherish the moment, you zoomed off, eager to flip on lights that were out of reach and to devour breakfast that I wasn’t prepared to make quickly enough. You erupted in frustration when I poured your milk into a pink cup instead of the purple bottle you used long ago. The temper tantrums escalated when I insisted on toasting your waffle rather than serving it straight from the freezer. And when I finally handed you the waffle, you howled for cereal instead.
Ah, it seemed like one of those days. I braced myself for the inevitable meltdowns, the mood swings, and the testing of my patience that would likely lead to my own breakdown by day’s end. I steeled myself for another evening of cooking, cleaning, and writing, anticipating an exhausting, emotionally draining day.
But then, something unexpected happened. You settled on the living room floor, coloring at the coffee table, and invited me to join you. I sat down, half-expecting a shriek of horror at my presence, but you continued coloring, undisturbed. I picked up a crayon and asked your preference: Sofia’s dress or Minnie’s shoes. Without hesitation, you chose, “Minnie’s shoes.” And there we were, coloring together, enjoying each other’s company.
After about 15 minutes, we transitioned to “tent time,” where we lay on the floor covered by a silly sheet. “Mommy, go sleep. Stay here. You go sleep. I be back. Okay?”
So, I stayed. I lay still while you wandered around, gathering stuffed animals and pillows to keep me company. Sure, I had a mountain of tasks awaiting me, but I chose to remain present. I treasured these fleeting moments, knowing this “my mommy is my best friend” phase wouldn’t last forever.
We watched Sofia on my bed for nearly an hour, which is usually against my rules. We sang “Wheels on the Bus” and practiced our ABCs on the kitchen floor. You morphed into a dinosaur, stomping and roaring through the house, either to scare me or annoy our neighbors below.
I didn’t stop you. I didn’t care, much to the dismay of the “bangs on the ceiling” friend. Sure, you had your “moments”—like when you spilled yellow rice while trying to “feed our cat” or when you attempted to bite my backside while I washed dishes, a mystery I still ponder. And yes, there was the meltdown about cookies not being an acceptable dinner. But those instances were trivial compared to the joys we shared: the secrets whispered in my ear, the imaginary tour of our home, and the laughter, hugs, and kisses exchanged.
As the day wrapped up and I tucked you into bed, turning out the light, I came to a realization: I hadn’t accomplished a single task on my list. The sink was still full, the laundry piled high, and my article remained unwritten. More than 15 hours had passed since I awoke, and what was my reward? A mess of Legos, a pair of “lightly worn” pants, and a collection of stuffed animals scattered across the kitchen floor.
But the truth was, I had something far more significant. I had your love, your joy, and your attention. I had the chance to appreciate your infectious laughter, the way you pronounce words like “school” (skoo) and “potty” (pot-tay), and your sweet, innocent essence. It was a moment of pure, uninterrupted quality time, as I let everything else fade away.
I got to see the world through your wonder-filled gaze. Therefore, the most valuable thing I did today was nothing at all. Because in the end, nothing meant you were my everything.
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Summary:
Today was filled with nothing but precious moments with my child. Despite my plans for chores and writing, I discovered that the most meaningful experiences came from simply spending time together. The mess can wait; the connection we shared was priceless.
Keyphrase: parenting moments
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