Yesterday this little boy danced on my last nerves all the day long. It was the kind of day that I felt tired of being a mom. The kind of day when I sentimentally reflected on the days when I could do all my grocery shopping in a hand basket in 10 minutes flat. When I could shower and pee alone. When I could have a phone conversation without having to use the words, "Let me call you right back" 12 times, and when mine was the only bum I had to wipe.
This morning, in the three consecutive seconds of peace and quiet I got today, I realized I shouldn't be wishing these days over. My Pirate goes to preschool this year, in a few weeks even. He's growing up and quick and these days won't be back. Soon, from now until he's grown we'll have a school schedule. We won't be free to spend whole days in our jammies, making "cookies" and watching shows. I need to live up these last few days. I need to embrace his sweetness, his energy, his silliness, his little boy-ness.
So today I closed the computer, I put the phone away (mostly), and I spent time with my boys. We didn't do anything especially fun. But this afternoon when he said, "Mom, dance with me!" I snatched him up and we spun around the kitchen. He laughed and I kissed his face and thought I hope I can remember these moments forever.
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