Yesterday was a tough parenting day.
Runny noses all around, we sniffed in unison.
Nap time was the worst. Both children placed in beds at 1pm. Both finally asleep by 2:30pm. Both awake and crying by 3:30.
Because he still depends on me for a basic need, I got the crying newborn and M took the crying preschooler.
To the sounds of her cries in the background, I changed the newborn out of his third bodily-fluid-stained outfit of the day (the grand total for the day would be 4).
I calmed him, fed him and took him downstairs.
“Did he throw up again?!”
“Nope. Just peed his pants.”
I glanced at my preschooler and then looked at M. He had a crazed sort of look in his eyes.
“She wouldn’t stop crying. So I gave her chocolate.”
I smiled and held my hand up for a high-five.
We know we are the lucky ones. We get to have these tough parenting days. We get to spoil our little ones with a little post-nap chocolate and extra cuddles. We get to struggle and rack our brains for ways to turn a rough afternoon around into a fun, memorable evening. We are so blessed.
So many are no longer so blessed.
I have not been watching the news. I have not been following the details. That something like this could happen scares me to the point to trembling. To the point of not dropping my girl off at school today and, instead, forcing her and her brother to spend the day wrapped in my arms.
I’m not watching the news. I’m not following the details. Because I already know all I need to know.
I know that horrible, heart-breaking, earth-shattering things can happen. I know that life is precious. I know that there are no guarantees. I know that I need to hug my kids. Squeeze them until they squeal. Tell them, and everyone important in my life, how much I love them. Show them. Never let them doubt it. Not for a second.
I know that I need to live this life to its fullest. Really live every moment. Never settle. I need to make it count.
I am blessed. And I cannot waste this blessing.
I hugged her extra tight this morning when I said goodbye. I told her I loved her. I told her twice to make sure she heard it. And now I’ll pass the day cuddling my son, anxiously passing the time until I can go pick her up. Until M comes home from work. Until my loves are here with me.
Hug your loves. Live today. Make it count.
My heart goes out to you who have lost the irreplaceable. You are in my thoughts and my prayers.