I had a moment tonight while the Pickle was taking a bath.
I went in her room to tidy up and get it ready for bedtime. As I was picking up her blocks I found myself suddenly faced with a critical choice.
Do I choose to grumble about picking up these 9 or 10 blocks?
I remembered when we were just about to go downstairs earlier today and she decided that was a good time to kneel down in front of her wagon and start throwing them backwards over her shoulder. I had shooed her away before the entire wagon got dumped out, but we never made it back up to put them away.
So here I was, at bedtime, putting the blocks away myself in an effort to move things along. I feel like I’m always “moving things along”.
Do I grumble about the blocks?
Or do I thank God and cherish this mundane task… knowing full well that in the blink of an eye, this season in my life (and in her life) will be gone? Knowing that all too soon the day will come when I am straining to remember details like this. The blocks strewn on the floor. The crumbs under her chair. The smell of her sweaty head after a nap.
I love this and I hate this.
Trying to live fully in each moment when I’ve spent my whole life hurrying things along to the next step. Trying to find that perfect but delicate balance between remembering who she was, cherishing who she is right now, and cheering her forward to become the person she will be.
Or in a year.
Or in 5 years… or 15.
Tonight I chose to be thankful for those blocks. And I didn’t get so upset when she poured water all over the floor. And I snuggled her a little tighter, all wrapped up and warm in her lion towel. And I read an extra story. And I gave an extra squeeze (or twelve).
Because I only get today once.
I will gladly pick up blocks.