There a approximately a million little things I do around our house. Okay, maybe not quite that many. Most of them go unnoticed. This is typical and acceptable. Much of what I do is mundane. I don’t expect accolades for dusting or cleaning the toilets. No awards are needed if dinner is served at a reasonable time with a decent amount of flavor and nutrition. Despite the fact I deeply appreciate how hard my husband works I don’t thank him for working every day when he gets home and I don’t think I should expect it either.
Among the million little things are a majority of things I won’t do forever. I won’t always have a little person in our home to care for, so many of the tasks will someday be erased from my list. But for now, while that little person still calls me momma:
I will plan our living room to incorporate a large table that serves as Lego central. It provides hours of screen-free entertainment. One table filled with brightly colored plastic that clashes with absolutely everything and yet is a masterpiece. On a good day I am enlisted to build a park – we’ve found this to be my Lego specialty.
I will do my darnedest to remember to empty what seems to be a pound of playground rocks from his little shoes and untie the laces. In the morning I will get down on my knees to tie those shoes. Yes, he probably should know how to tie them himself. Don’t judge. He gets frustrated. I get frustrated. We are most likely in a rush to get out the door, so I tie the shoes. It works for now. He will have decades of tying his own shoes before reverting back to Velcro.
I will volunteer at school and have lunch with him while I’m still cool enough. I’ve been warned that around third grade I will lose any cool factor that I now have and become an embarrassment, so for now I will go on field trips that give me headaches and sit in pint-sized chairs every chance I get.
I will make special meals. And by special I don’t mean fancy. I mean, my husband and I will eat grilled chicken and our kiddo will eat a cheese quesadilla. He is picky and I cater to him. Again, don’t judge (see a theme here). He is a particularly cranky kid when he is hungry, so to avoid this and save everyone’s sanity he gets some special choices if I know I’m making something he has tried and doesn’t like. He does try things and his tastes have expanded, so we’ll be just fine. Thank goodness for sandwiches cut into triangles – which is another thing I will do, cut bread into triangles.
I will play in the snow, go to the zoo, get ice cream for no reason, and do my best to just play. We grown ups seem to fight the notion of play, perhaps thinking we are too busy. Take fifteen minutes to be play with your kiddos and tell me if those giggles weren’t worth it.
I will read fun books in silly voices and I’ll read plenty of books that I find rather dull – over and over again – because they aren’t dull to him.
I will linger at bedtime and let him drift off to sleep holding my hand for as long he wants me to. It is our special time. Often the best time of the entire day. The day will come soon enough that his room will be a place I’m only allowed to deliver clean laundry to.
I will blow a kiss as I walk by his room on my way to bed (okay this one I may do as long as he lives at home).
Long after he’s little I will love him, encourage him, worry about him, and pray for him. But I won’t always get to hold his hand, so while he still calls me momma my list is long and I’m completely happy about it.