It's life. With kids. There are a lot of moments.
There are a million moments that fly by so incredibly fast yet feel so incredibly long when you are going through them. There are days that I never want to repeat and there are seconds that I wish would have lasted hours. There are moments that are so adorable and awesome that I can almost feel my heart breaking at the thought that someday my little dudes will be too big and too cool to share those moments with me and there are moments when I feel like I'm walking a very fine line between having my shit together and losing it all entirely.
There are a lot of moments.
There are the "I might jab this pen in my ear if I have to listen to the the 'ding ding lights' on the train track one more time," moments. The "Do you even know why you are crying anymore?" moments. The "I know you love chalk but I walked around Target with your chalky hand prints all over my butt and legs yesterday without even realizing it so can we please just play something anything else?" moments...
There are the "Oh my gosh you are seriously funny and obviously got your sense of humor from me!" moments. The "Please stop growing up so fast and properly using big words, some of which are swears," moments. The "I'm so proud of how polite they both were on their own just now!" moments. The "Do not spit at the cashier at Target EVER again!" moments. The "Every time you say 'Mom' I add a minute to time out," moments...
There are the "I don't have a clue what I am doing anymore," moments. The "I am the best mom ever!" moments. The "I don't know how much more of this 'phase' I can take," moments. And the "I may not know what I'm doing, but at least I'm giving it a damn good effort," moments...
Two nights ago we were all sitting down eating dinner together, which, with my husband's schedule, is a rare moment of it's own. We were having a family dinner moment which was being rapidly overshadowed by the "Oh my god just eat the cheeseburger because all you wanted for dinner when I was making dinner was a cheeseburger and now that dinner is on your plate you suddenly hate cheese and meat?" moment when we heard the ice cream truck pull into the neighborhood.
And now, since we forgot to close the sliding glass door when we were done grilling, we were having an "Oh shit!" moment.
Normally, I would have considered that a total fail because my husband and I were now going to be forced to to suffer through the sudden disdain for red meat and dairy and the crying moans of the tortured children for not being able to eat ice cream. But that night, for some strange reason, I decided to overcome the moment by ditching the dinner and making a family run for the ice cream truck.
So Joe grabbed Ben and some cash and the two of them sprinted out of the house and Blake and I followed at a far less embarrassing pace. And honestly, as entertaining as it was to see the two of them running with their arms flailing (and as much as I hope I don't forget that moment...ever), that wasn't the moment that made me slow down and gush over how much I love what we have. No, that moment didn't happen until we were all walking back to the house.
We had traded kids at that point. Joe thought it was because I was tired from carrying Blake halfway through the neighborhood following him and Ben on their sprint towards happiness, but really it was because Blake had chosen a red, green, and orange push up and I was smart enough to know that 3/4 of that push up was about to land on the shirt of the parent holding him. Anyway, we made the swap and Ben and I were walking a few steps behind them and the two little dudes were just enjoying their ice cream quietly and nobody was really saying anything when Blake peeked his head over Joe's shoulder so he could see Ben.
And then my moment started.
Completely unprovoked by any suggestion from any of us Blake just looked at Ben and said "Hey Ben! Is a ice cweam gooooood?"
And then Ben said, "It is really good. How is your ice cream?"
And then Blake said, "It's deeee-wicious! Thanks, Ben."
And then Ben said, "Thanks Mom and Dad."
And then Blake said, "Yeah! This is fun!"
And then a little part of me died.
No it was not the first time I had heard them say sentences. And no, it was not the first time they had talked to each other. But most of the time they are talking to each other about totally independent topics and most of the time there are a million conversations and sounds going on around me and I'm doing my best to pick out what I can. But at that moment, for the very first time, Blake had started an actual conversation completely on his own and the two of them talked back and forth like two buddies just hanging out.
When we got home, the two of them wanted to eat their ice cream on the front porch and they continued talking back and forth. They talked about rocks and ice cream and they got excited when they heard the train horn. Blake watched everything his brother did and would nonchalantly mimic his big brother's mannerisms and I just sat and watched them both and took every single second of it in.
Those are the moments.
Those are the moments when I feel like my heart could actually burst open and I am afraid to move because I don't want any of it to end. Those are the moments when I say nothing but I feel everything. Those are the moments that can't be put into words. Those are the moments when I actually wonder what I ever did in life to deserve any of this.
Those moments were quickly replaced by moments of a screaming Blake, who didn't want to change out of his monkey pajamas even though they were completely soaked with ice cream, and a pissed off Ben, who was outraged by the news that he had to take a shower. But I didn't care about the fits of rage that night.
Sometimes, as they are growing, I say things like "I can't believe they are growing up so fast!" or "Since when did Ben not fit in any of these clothes anymore?" or "I forgot how cute it was when 2 year old kids started talking in sentences!" and I make a mental note of how cute they are and how fast they are growing and we move on to the next thing. And then sometimes, moments like the one a few nights ago happen and I actually see the little people they are becoming and I am in total awe because those are MY people.
Sometimes I laugh at them and they tackle each other and we read books or watch movies and we snuggle and we play baseball and we go for walks and I dodge footballs while cooking dinner and I find myself desperately trying to capture every moment of happy so that I can lock it up deep inside so that when they are too big and too cool, I'll still have those moments. And then sometimes, moments that are far less orchestrated than even a trip to the park come along and capture my heart entirely and I don't have to hope that I remember them, because they etched themselves so deep in my brain that I am certain I will feel them forever.
It's the things that catch you off guard. It's the perfectly adorable moves that your little people make when they aren't trying to be adorable. It's the tiniest little things. It's a conversation on the way back from the ice cream truck and a mimic of a brother's behavior. These are the moments that I live for without even realizing it.
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