They're Only Little Once

Embrace those precious babies and love with everything you have. They're only little once.

It happened. My oldest son, my first baby, my first love...he’s graduated from calling me “Mama” to “Mom.” My heart is far from prepared. When did I blink and he grew up?! I’m not ready. Nothing in me is ready to accept it. Will I ever hear those precious two syllables again? I’m “Mama.” I haven’t graduated yet, I haven’t met my credits, nor do I ever want too! I’m a blubbery mess. How can such a simple word bring on such an array of emotions. As I reflect on this sudden and unwelcome change, I realize that this moment is the first of many heart wrenching milestones. My sweet, rambunctious boy was quietly cradled in the nook of my arm just yesterday. My two year old was taking her first steps moments ago and my baby, just fragile and dependent is now feeding herself and learning her first words. Where have I been to lose sight of these precious moments and these fleeting memories?

My son’s strong little arms wrapped around me...”I love you times thirty miles, Mom. That’s a lot of love,” he proclaimed. My two year old joined him saying “You’re ‘bootaful’, Mama. I ‘lub’ you.” My heart instantly ached with overwhelming love. A second turned my happy heart to stabbing sadness as it hit me. He called me, “Mom.” And heartbreakingly, I haven’t heard “Mama” from him since. I embraced my two oldest with every ounce of energy I had. I willingly accepted the wet sloppy kisses I regretfully sometimes push away. I held their little bodies, memorizing how they felt in my arms. I closed my eyes and engraved their sweet giggles and voices into my memory. That was the moment, my entire perspective changed. The moment that opened my eyes to the fleeting time, the fleeting memories and my fleeting babies. I thought to myself and questioned the purpose of living such a busy life. Consumed by my chores, daily to-do’s, schedule, bills, appointments, play dates, coffee dates, business and family. When did I allow my life’s duties to become all consuming? When did I forget my purpose and my reason? When did I give life permission to pass me by instead of making a conscious effort to be present in each and every moment? Nothing prepares your heart for reality slapping you in the face with the startling truth. My babies are growing up and I’m missing it.

I’ve been so busy with life, consumed by my own responsibilities and distractions that I’ve failed to literally and figuratively look at and enjoy the fruits of my labor. The precious little humans growing rapidly before me that I was so graciously blessed. I realize my head is always down; cleaning, calling, writing, planning and doing. My responses are often directed to the air rather than to their sweet faces. I find that their bedtime cuddles are rushed to get to my cleaning or to tackle that project. It hit me like a ton of bricks when I realized my neglect. My neglect to appreciate, embrace and submerse myself in these moments. Is the time with my children not more important than the dirty dishes in the sink or my daughter’s story not more important than the text I just received? I have to refocus on my “why” and my “reason.” The laundry will always be there, the floor will always have crumbs, my social life will make a comeback, but my babies won’t be here forever. Their little voices won’t always call my name from the room over. My bed won’t always fit all three of their tiny bodies. Their little hands won’t always reach for mine and their sweet lips won’t always seek out my cheeks to give me “the best kiss ever!”

My heart is shattered facing the inevitable. I realize now that the moment has come when I’ve gone from “Mama” to “Mom.” It’s just a matter of time before my little girl won’t reach to me to be held and my son will be embarrassed by my hugs. The moment is coming when my baby won’t need my hip for security and will be reaching for my finger to support her new found legs. There will be a day little feet will grow into adulthood. Their toys will be boxed up and their rooms will empty. Their visits will turn to phone calls, far and few between. Holidays will be with or without them. My home will be silent and my heart will be divided and with them out in the world.

I refuse to wake up one day and regret. As the word says, “Yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes.” -James 4:14. Our time on earth is fragile, short and never promised. I want to be present now, engaged and embracing my now. My children are who I leave behind. My children are what give me purpose and reason. I’m choosing to recommit myself to motherhood and to my children. To give them my undivided attention and my unending love. I’m choosing to recommit myself to educating them, guiding them and to leading them by example. I recommit to being the best mother I can be.

This week, I put the cleaning aside. I put my phone down. I hugged them a little harder and held them a little longer. I ran my fingers through the baby ringlets of my blonde headed two year old. I excessively kissed the pudgy cheeks of my seven month old and wrapped my fingers around her wrist rolls. I embraced my son countless times until he was fed up with my cuddles. I held my babies tightly until they fell asleep. I welcomed them with open arms in the middle of the night. I played that game of tag until I couldn’t breath. I tried to capture that disgustingly slimy frog to be cool like Daddy. I made a kiddie pool full of mud and relived my childhood memories of mud pies. I studied their beautiful faces, their dimples, their perfectly wrapped blonde ringlets and their preciously toothy grins. I paused my day and taught them about our garden. I bought them lunch and drove them to the ocean. We shared ice cream and sprinkles on sugar cones sitting knee to knee filling the air with stories and laughter.

This week I stole back the memories I have allowed to escape me. I recommitted to being “Mom” and made a promise to myself that regret does not have to have a place in my life. Why am I rushing the days ahead for those moments of quiet and a tidy home? Why am I rushing my babies to crawl, walk, talk and play independently? Life is more than reaching that next milestone, it’s about living. Life is now. My babies are babies now. I’m making a conscious decision to be present, live in the moment, absorb every second of this time that I will long to return to one day. My children deserve my all and until the day comes that they no longer need me, my all I will give. They are only little once. I will forever hold the title of “Mom,” but I will be their “One and only” for such a short while.