Since making the transition from a career-minded woman to being a stay at home mom, I have found myself attempting to reconcile and validate how I spend my time. Each day, for better or worse, is a little bit like the movie Groundhog Day. You know, the film about how every day is the same. Trivial and the same. Further to trying to validate my time, I have tried to stay connected to the outside world – cabin fever has set in more than a time or two! When trying to get my daughter to sleep, for example, I often find myself checking Facebook, reading online news, or pinning on Pinterest.
While there is nothing inherently wrong with trying to feel validated or staying connected, I often wonder if I am missing something. Why can’t I just be present in the moment? As I was lying next to my 10-month old daughter tonight, trying to help her get to sleep for thousandth time (slight exaggeration for emphasis purposes), I found myself feeling resentful. But then my emotional angst halted when I had the epiphany that someday I will tell my daughter stories about how I had to make her feel secure when entering dreamland by lying near her for hours on end. And when I thought about these stories, I realized how short-lived this Groundhog Day existence truly is. I also considered what type of a character I want to be in this story, realizing that I want to remember the details of these intimate and special moments.
Ultimately, I decided I want to be present. Present in the small, mundane moments. Moments that if viewed correctly, can be deeply profound (if I let them).
So tonight as my daughter finally drifted into dreamland, I was taken by how her breath changed when she entered a deeper sleep, inhaling and exhaling faster. I noticed that when her face became completely relaxed, her bottom lip becomes like the shape of a W because her teeth aren’t big enough to push her lips out. I smiled when her tiny hand, once clenching the fold in the bed sheet, slowly slid to her side, opening palm up as if ready to catch dreams. I appreciated that her little foot was partially sticking out the bottom of her blanket, catching a glimpse of her teeny toes. I silently giggled as I noticed that her legs have dropped to either side of her body, making the shape of frogs’ legs. And after some time (when I think she’s asleep), I attempt to leave, only to have her roll over and grab the collar of my shirt and nuzzle her head into my neck. Tiredly I sigh, but when I breath in, my nose is tickled by her strawberry blond hair that’s getting longer with age, and I’m reminded of that delicious “baby” smell. Then I think, “What’s another 15-20 minutes of just being present?”
Today I am glad that I was present. I hope to be again tomorrow.
I enjoyed reading your blog Brandi, time passes so quickly, you’ll remember these special little moments forever.
Yay blogging! I have been blogging for almost 7 years, it is awesome therapy and a incredible record of time passed. I love this post, I struggle too being present in the moments. I noticed it more and more as my daughters grew and grew. I got a tattoo on my right forearm, Emily Dickinson’s quote, Life is composed of nows. It helps me stay focused! Good luck on your blogging journey.
those are all great questions we all struggle with! No matter what age or stage of life!