Is it just me, or do other parents look at pictures of their kids when they were little, and cry? I cry because the time flew by, I cry because I hope I was as good to them as I possibly could have been, I cry because I didn't realize how fast it would all zip by.
Did I appreciate their soft little faces...the ones that now have their own wrinkles of time? Did I listen to their stories, appreciate their coloring projects?
I know I herded them through showers, one after another. I washed their faces and brushed their teeth and got out the rows of clothes for the day, hurrying here and there and hopefully...not forgetting to appreciate the moments. I listened to their nightly prayers, often tapping my feet in impatience as I had a baby waiting for me, or maybe I was just hoping to get them all in bed so I could have five minutes of peace and quiet.
If I could do it all over again, I would care less about the house and the mess. I wish I could go back in time and hug those innocent little children in those pictures. Because they grow up, and Mom isn't so cool anymore, and hugs are more awkward.
Why the sentimentality today? I don't know. I have four young children here who are waiting to go to the library, and life is good. Yesterday we went to the pool...tomorrow is a church soccer tournament, Sonja and Jonathan are playing. Tonight there is a Dome basketball event, but I am not working, I am watching the twins and their big brother William (I miss them)...tomorrow Paul leaves for France for a week...then next weekend, I am going to Washington D.C. with Mirielle to visit Samuel!
Anyhow, these kids are ready to leave, waiting for me...