Most mothers of young children have heard a stranger’s
advice to “enjoy every minute”. This
advice is usually given when a shower hasn’t been possible for days, my son is
a whining mess, I desperately need to use the restroom, and the only reason
that I’ve left the house is because I realized that we are out of milk. Obviously when I am not enjoying that
particular moment, which usually makes me feel guilty for taking any second for
granted.
A couple of months ago Collin had his one-year-old wellness
checkup. I was becoming impatient in the
waiting room. Collin was just starting
to walk and found a nice open space and captive audience to practice his new
skill. I was quickly becoming exhausted
as I redirected him away from the pale, coughing, sneezing, and generally sick
people who were also waiting for their appointments. I finally settled him down with some toys
(and silently prayed that those who played with them before Collin were also
there for wellness checkups) and had a seat next to a woman that was obviously
very entertained by my son. She asked
the usual questions – his age, if I had any other children, etc. After I answered her, she started to say
something else which I only assumed would be the standard “enjoy every minute”
advice. Instead she surprised me by
saying that she remembered those days and how much work they are. She briefly told me about her children and
her references made me assume that her kids were only a few years older than
mine, no older than elementary school age.
I asked her a couple of questions about her children, including their
ages, and she replied “23 and 25”. Right
then I realized that she was reminiscing as she told me about them.
I took such comfort in our conversation. I know that I’m not going to enjoy every
minute, and that every minute isn’t full of silliness, hugs, kisses, and
general happiness. That those are the
rewards of parenting, not the duties. It’s
craziness to expect that anyone ever could.
I also realized that the moments that I do enjoy will become
imbedded in my memory and easily accessible in the future. These are the moments that I want to relay to
strangers that ask about my children in a waiting room. This is also the reason that these strangers
feel compelled to give such impossible advice, because those are the moments
that they are recalling. Even as they
see my son throw a fit or whine excessively, they can’t help but remember the
cuddles and cuteness of their own children years ago.
I feel blessed that Collin was able to bring a bit of her
past back to her. It was such a gift to
talk to someone that could see that I was not enjoying that particular moment,
but still couldn’t help but take pleasure in it. She made such an impact on my outlook of
enjoying every moment with my kids. Now
I’m off to hug two adorable boys.
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