When the kids
were little they would make desperate attempts to keep their time in the tub
extending longer and longer in spite of luke-warm water and prune wrinkled
skin. They would shove chubby hands
over the drain, giggling head to head, at their losing battle to keep the water
from running out. Then finally climbing over the edge like war weary soldiers,
accepting defeat, they let me wrap them mummy-like in giant towels and squeeze
them dry. In that exact moment as
I breathe in their squeaky clean smells I feel for a fleeting moment, peace.
Fast-forward 10
years and I’m the one shoving my hands over the drain. But slowing down the clock is no easier
than keeping water in the tub. And
my quest for peace is like finding a sock that’s not inside out in the dirty
clothes hamper—next to impossible! It’s a hurry-up world and since they long
ago gave up baths for the more efficient shower I search for my moments of
solace somewhere else.
My oldest, just
weeks shy of becoming a real teenager, has so much going on in his world I
marvel every day at his scheduled life and the battles we fight both together
and separately to get it all done.
Yesterday I dropped him off at school at 7:30 in the morning to take
part in early band practice and he didn’t return home after basketball practice
until nearly 6 at night. After
that he downed a quick supper and then hit homework for another hour and a
half. Sometimes the overwhelming
stress of it all pushes us apart, and other times it pulls us back together and
I see us both holding on tight to make sure those moments outweigh the others.
With every sideways grin, and laugh out loud, and unexpected “love you” running
out the door I feel the water racing through my fingers as I push against the
drain.
For my youngest,
I had anticipated a year of tears.
I told his principal at the beginning of the school year to expect to
see me crying every time I’m there this year since everything he does will mark
our last time to experience it in elementary school. And yet, I’ve hardly had a time to mourn the passing of each
milestone. And to be honest, a few of these 5th grade “opportunities”
will quite frankly become celebrations in my world when they are in my rear
view mirror; like the 5th grade bazaar.
Since
Kindergarten my children have taken a few dollars and some spare change to
school on a special day in December when they can shop for delightful hand made
“treasures” to purchase from the 5th graders; everything from key
chains to fleece pillows. Now it is Jakes turn to learn all about running his
own business as he tracks his expenses, time investments, and manufacturing
costs and launches into production of “Jake’s Refrigerator Magnets”.
Our home has become an assembly line of
clear acrylic rocks, tiny round sports related pictures, scissors, glue and
magnets. Hopefully on the appointed shopping day when the schools’ students are
to unleashed to browse, they will purchase all of these masterpieces so that
they don’t come back to live on my refrigerator.
As we glued the
last magnet to the last football helmet Jake looks up at me, with glue sticky
fingers, beaming with accomplishment and pride, and says with out stretched
arms “These turned out awesome, Mom!”
“Thanks for
helping me.”
In that moment I realize, I may not know
how to keep the water from racing down the drain, but I know enough to soak in
and enjoy these moments of everyday life when all is right with the world and
just for a moment there is perfect peace.
All is calm. All is bright.
No comments:
Post a Comment