The other day, I thought we’d make some memories. The weather forecast promised heavy rains, so on Friday we geared up and got ready to frolic and play in the rain. It was great fun! She splashed and ran in the huge puddle/lake we found, and laughed and screamed and spun around. She even sat in it.
Yes. She sat in the great big lake puddle. Oh dear.
I thought I had planned out the morning so well, packing snacks, a towel, a change of clothes, using the baby carrier, and waterproofing her as well as I could.
But like I said, she sat in the lake. Really, you can only waterproof so much.
About halfway through our sloshy trip back to the car, she started whining about being uncomfortable. We only had one more block to go, and I really didn’t want to carry her, because it’s really hard to carry a toddler when you’ve already got a baby strapped in front, not to mention a backpack hanging on your back. But we were near a busy road which made me nervous, and I knew that the sooner we could get to the car, the sooner I could change her out of the wet clothes. So I picked that great big toddler up and carried her on the small patch of hip I could find in between the baby and the backpack.
Yep, I carried her. And the baby. And the backpack. And the long umbrella. And myself. All the way back to the car. In the rain.
Yes, it was just one block. But it felt like a very, very long block.
The baby cried. The toddler whined. My muscled groaned. The rain drizzled. The umbrella kept clattering to the ground.
Why, JoEllen. Why.
When we finally got to the car, I took off her boots and poured out the cups of water that had collected inside (Oh. No wonder she was complaining haha :P). I changed her out of her wet things and got her nice and dry and cozy in her carseat. She settled in with some Cheerios in her lap and munched happily as we made our way back home. I was just glad we were finally headed home, and didn’t really want to think about anything except maybe napping.
Then she started making demands. I know toddlers do that, but I really just didn’t want to deal with it at the moment. Still, I gave her her water. I picked up her sunglasses. I turned up the music. I was growing weary from all her requests when she started asking for her favorite songs. Again. Is this a universal toddler thing? Having 3-4 favorite songs and wanting to listen to them ALL. THE. TIME. Again and again and again and again…? I just didn’t want to deal with clicking around and finding them, so I told her we were just going to listen to “mommy’s music” and she’d have to be okay with that. She protested a bit, then gave it up because I wasn’t budging.
And finally, I had some peace. Driving from Point A to Point B is sometimes the most relaxing part of my day.
As we drove, my mind started to mull over a conversation I’d had the night before. My friend had just shared about her challenges while working with high schoolers, and how helpless she felt when it came to issues of depression, suicidal thoughts, and self harm. I know that these are not uncommon struggles for a lot of the teens in this area, and it broke my heart to hear of yet another youth battling through this. I imagined how especially heartbreaking it must be for this teen’s parents, and couldn’t help but imagine my own children going through these tumultuous years someday.
It broke my heart. I suddenly felt the desperation of a mother longing to bring her children comfort. A mother willing to do anything to protect her children from The Lies. My heart ached to be able to bring joy and delight to my children, and I longed to have the power to make everything right again in their broken worlds. I just wanted them to be happy. I felt a growing sense of despair, knowing that someday there would be things that all my love and effort wouldn’t be able to fix.
And then I snapped back to reality. My reality. Which was my toddler and my baby, sitting in their carseats behind me. And I realized that all I needed to do right now was play O, Holy Night to bring a smile to my little girl’s face. All I needed to do was give her some more “Cheer-O’s” and she would be delighted. All I needed to do was blow some bubbles, and she would clap her little hands in excitement.
So I clicked over to that song that we have listened to just under a thousand times over the last few months, and slowly turned up the volume. I stole a backward glance and caught the moment on her face when she realized what was happening, and she squealed with joy and clapped, “OH! DID YOU HEAR IT? IT’S O HOLY NIGHT!” She smiled her beautiful smile, her little eyes two crescent moons, and started to sing along.
Click, click, play.
That’s all it took, and everything was wonderful in her little world.
Someday, I will look longingly back on the days when all it took was a song to bring the sunshine to her face.
Someday, I will ache for the days when I could simply hand her some cereal to make her happy.
Someday, I will wish I could turn back time so that I could hold out my arms in the middle of a storm and offer that big, wet toddler the safety and comfort of her mother’s arms once more.
Someday.
Until then, I will play her that song, and give her those Cheerios. I will hold her and spin her in the air until she cackles with glee and I will try my best to live so that Someday, I will have no regrets.
15 responses to “Before Someday Comes”
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This is absolutely beautiful and touching :’)
Thanks, Nancy!
Being present and in the moment–one of the greatest gifts you will ever give your children (and yourself!) If only more people understood that. That, to me, is how I found and retain the joy in being a parent.
Yes, it’s a lesson I keep learning again and again!
that’s some good, big picture baby-life perspective.
:]
What a beautiful reminder!
Thank you.
Thank you!
Love this. Great blog by the way. Stumbled across it via your Better Way to Say Sorry post.
Thanks, Tammy! Your blog looks super fun! I opened it to check out later :D.