Mothering

I was watching my three children play together today and while I was watching them an ache filled my body that travelled from the back of my throat to the depths of my belly. 

I was missing the years that hadn’t even passed yet,  as well as all the ones that had already. 

I’m constantly questioning my parenting. Like for example, I was sitting there watching and thinking do I go and join in? Or do I just let them continue on and observe their interactions? 

Am I present enough or too present? Sometimes I know I do too much for them and speak and interject when perhaps I should just let them figure things out on their own. But I’m also afraid of missing something. And missing out.

It’s 4:30 and I’ve already closed the house up, turned the oven on, ready for meatloaf and veggies for dinner. Shortly it will be bath and shower time and before I know it another day will end and a new one will begin again tomorrow. 

I miss the past, often forget to live in the present moment and think too much about the future. 

Watching my children grow and learn is such a privilege. I already miss these days of simple joys I see in them. Their laughter filling our home. I think of all the things that annoy me some days - like when they ask to do craft and I know it will end in a huge mess - and I realise it is all of these things that I will miss the most. The noise. The mess. The creativity. The singing. The chaos. 

How can I hold them long enough so that they know how loved they are? How can I give more of myself when some days I am so tired and spread thin? How can I protect them from hatred and pain and disappointment but hope that they are people built of resilience, courage and respect? 

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I walked over and asked if I could join in their game. They all gave a smile and a ‘yes!’ And I tried to go along with rules I wasn't sure of and play I didn’t quite understand. But I sat with them, down on the floor with them. And I watched and I played and I gave myself to them.