If freckles were blessings, I’d be a saint or rich or invincible. Perhaps all of the above.
We are freckles galore, my kids and I.
Mother’s Day is approaching and I’ve been thinking…. that it’s true what they say.
You know the whole “they grow so quickly” business. It’s not just some crazy old lady urban legend……
Those mothers who are beginning to see wrinkles in the mirror……those gray haired women who smile longingly at you and your little ones at the grocery store…..
They are on the other side of motherhood, probably wondering where it all went.
A spring cleaning session recently found me two hours deep into old photo albums, staring at my chubby faced babies with their sippy cups, slowly transforming into young people. One wearing a dress, the other a tie, one holding a soccer ball, the other a football…..gaining inches and independence.
I am currently in the trenches of the middle years of motherhood. My kids and I are eyeballs deep in school, homework, sports, and social growth. We are ”on” from sunup to sundown.
My car engine seems to never cool completely. We are busy, to say the least.
And I enjoy them so much at these ages of 9 and 13.
They are no longer clingy-needy. They bathe themselves, dress themselves, and cut up their own food. We can have real conversations. They make me laugh and they make me proud and they worry me, too. I am beginning to see them as real people and not just my babies.
Is that good? Yes.
I think about mothering and schedules and what sorts of things will become cherished memories.
Looking back on my own childhood, it’s the simple, free, family moments that I remember the most.
We have a nighttime routine here at our house.
I lay down with each of my kids every single night for a little chit chat and snuggle time.
Yes at 9 and 13, I still get to tuck them in and I love it.
Usually, when I am in with my 9-year-old, the lights are on because we are either looking at a book, playing a DS game, or counting his money. He is the likes of Mr. Crabs and is a tad money obsessed.
I often find myself staring at him while he tells me a story or reads from a page or organizes his coins. He stills lets me get up close and personal. Those days are numbered though, I just know it. So, while I still can, sometimes, I pretend to count his freckles. He is swimming in freckles, so actually counting them would be truly impossible, but I adore them.
He is an all American freckle faced kid and he’s cool with it.
So I stare at that face, those freckles upon freckles, and I just want to squeeze him.
When his “tuck in” wraps up I get a hug, and a kiss, and off I go to nestle in with my teenager to get the latest news and views of middle school life.
The dog finds her spot in between us and demands petting while we chat. People who think they’re cool and engineering class and track and soccer and the straightening of hair are hot topics. She looks a lot like me, freckles and all. She is a deep thinker and has a tender heart.
She’s safe and sound and tucked in for the night. And that is a blessing all on it’s own. Another hug and kiss and off I go to close up the house for the night.
I try really hard to savor the little moments of motherhood.
The ballooned cheeks of my boy playing the recorder.
The sight of my 13-year-old, fast asleep in her bed surrounded by mountains of stuffed animals.
The sound of the basketball thumping on the pavement.
Pitching a wiffle ball, taking a bike ride.
Listening to the ever running washing machine and dishwasher.
The backpacks, the lunches, the smelly shoes.
And so I see those two freckled faces and feel love beyond words and want the clock to slow just a bit.
The freckles……yes, for sure, they are my countless blessings.