I just botched every single warm fuzzy mommy moment only a few minutes ago as I snapped angrily at Sydney for asking (whining) for the umpteenth time if it was lunch time. This outburst of mine completely undermined the earlier draft of this post I had been working on throughout the morning.
In fact, I’m still not fully in the proper state of mind to tell about how I was sitting here at the computer tyring to figure out what to write when I heard this voice over my shoulder saying, “Don’t panic. Don’t panic.” From the corner of my eye I could see Sydney coming closer and closer to me with a big, white hair bow in hand. She wanted to do my hair for me. Meanwhile, Jackson and Brooklyn had been fighting over who got to massage my back. (Oh the pampered life I live!)
We are only two days away from the big day. The day my three wild ones have been anticipating and dreaming about for weeks and months. One minute I’m basking in the simple pleasures of watching the excitement build in their eyes. The next minute I feel like I’m barely holding on by a thread to keep some semblance of peace in the home. These people, with their little hands and little faces, in a brief moment of sweetness, have worked extraordinarily hard to make sure I (Santa’s wife) feel appreciated and loved (minus the first thing in the morning meltdown, the bickering over some stupid plastic toy and the tears shed when it was firmly explained that M&M’s are not an appropriate breakfast food). I know it’s hard to be good all year long, let alone all day long!
If I could only manage to press hold and make time stand still, just for a moment. For this moment when all three are peacefully playing, and the moment tomorrow that has yet to come and for the first peek at the gifts under the tree on Christmas morning. In the minds of my children time is moving ever so slowly towards the day they’ve been anxiously awaiting for so long. In my mind time is flying at the speed of light, and I’ve not enough space on my camera’s memory stick to capture all the moments I long to remember and never forget: preschool Christmas programs, cookie baking mis-haps, potty training through the holidays, driving down Peacock Lane, eating Christmas treats and marveling at the warm glow of creative exterior lighting, the story of baby Jesus and the look of absolute conviction that crosses the faces of three young children, eyes large as saucers, as they give detailed accounts of their Christmas lists.
As stressful as it can be, this truly is the most magical time of the year. And inspite of my momentary lapse in motherly sweetness, I really do long to savour every single moment of this holiday season with my family. So, I’ll take the good parts, wrap them up in my heart, and open them every time I need a reminder of just how magical those hard-to-come-by well-behaved moments are.
And in sheer delight I’ll hold tightly to those twinkling passages of time that usher me right back into the joy of the season – the most wonderful time of the year!
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