As a mom there are points in your kids life that remind you of your motherhood. Yes, sometimes you will forget.
I don’t mean that I forget that I am a mom. I live and breathe momminess. Day-to-day, minute-to-minute, I’m always thinking about my kids, what I need to do for them, where they are going, wondering what they are up to.
But occasionally, when I am not ready or expecting it, I feel motherhood in full force. I feel what it means to be a mom. To realize I had a part in this life. That time has passed. That babies grow up.
Sometimes it hits me so hard it knocks me down.
Zoe is now 8.
As we celebrated this weekend, my husband says, “in 8 more years Zoe, you can drive a car!, you’re halfway there.”
and I wonder what she will be like when she is 16. I wonder if I will remember 8.
It seems like she has always been 8. As if I don’t remember her 3 years ago. I remember moments. I have pictures. But it’s right now that defines her for me.
Right now, today, this is my child.
She is beautiful, she is smart, funny, kind, full of life, energy, curious, skeptical, goofy, adventurous
every night I need to turn her bedroom light off because she has fallen asleep with a book in her hand
she just cut her hair and she brushes it more now that it is short than she did when it was halfway down her back
sometimes when she is playing soccer, she skips to the ball instead of running
she tries hard
she is intense
she is a warrior
she shares my obsession with notebooks and steals my pens
she loves pink, but sometimes purple is better
she is fearless and timid in the same moment
she can take care of herself
and will look for reassurance
she does not hesitate when asked “Do you want to play” – she always says yes.
sometimes she just needs a hug
she likes chocolate and strawberries, but not together, unless it’s Nutella, then it is okay
she always remembers to say thankyou
she watches me
sometimes she changes her clothes so we match better
she will play pretend (but doesn’t say “fortend” anymore)
she has to pick up the cat every 10 minutes
her stories are always long ones
she is not afraid to sing me a song
she lets me hold her hand
…and I am grateful for every bit of her
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