Will I Remember?

I have got so much to do today. But sometimes recording something for the sake of remembering is worth sacrificing a task or maybe even some sleep at the end of the day. These past couple weeks have been so productive for me - I've accomplished a lot, but sometimes in the "accomplishing of many things" other things get pushed aside (like kids...hypothetically speaking).

Meg hasn't exactly been pushed aside and forgotten these past couple weeks, but she has been toted around like an extra purse as I've run my thousands of errands. And when we're at home, she gets picked up and moved around like a bushel of peaches just so she can be in the same room as me. She's pretty much content to play quietly and happily by herself as long as I'm within viewing range. If I happen to even move in the direction of the door she perks right up, watches anxiously, and assesses the situation to determine if a bit of weeping and wailing is in order. If I do happen to leave the room for ten seconds or more and she starts to carry on, it takes a good 5-10 minutes to get back onto trustworthy ground with her again. This is pretty darn frustrating to me because sometimes, I feel like I don't have that 5-10 minutes to spare (especially if I'm popping in and out of the room in quick spurts). So Meg and I have both used the past couple weeks to adjust to the fact that mom isn't always on the floor for playtime.

I used to feel guilty about that, but I've stopped. Just like that. I stopped feeling guilty. And here's why...for me (I'm not talking about anyone else here or making judgments as to how other people should be) it doesn't work to be completely engaged with my kids all the time. We are living in a temporal state, in a worldly world and I think it's part of my test to figure out how to get "stuff" done. I've learned that sometimes my family isn't going to be my top priority for a moment, for a day, or sometimes even for two weeks (gasp!) and boy howdy I'm okay with that. But I'm only okay with it to the point that I remember that my family is my overriding priority and more often than not, my attention and efforts are focused on them. A few conferences ago Elder Bednar's talk was about balance and how there really is no such thing. We focus on one thing for a while and then we realize that something else needs to rise to the forefront. This was refreshing for me because I've never even really tried to achieve BALANCE. I've always been pretty much an all-or-nothing girl, which means I'm really good at getting the task at hand accomplished, but multi-tasking kind of goes out the window. I get really entrenched (sometimes too much) in one project or one effort for a short period of time and then I move onto the next thing. Which is probably why my house flucutates between the two extremes of cluttered, dusty & disorganized to eat-off-the-floor clean.

Anyway, while I chose to take a few minutes for floor time with Meggie today I started into that over-the-top sentimental, gushy-mom thing and nearly couldn't contain myself. In the spirit of the "I love my life" attitude, I grabbed my camera and then cursed at myself for not putting the "read my camera handbook" at the top of my priority list because I don't know jack about my camera settings and I was oh so annoyed that the photos were looking less than amateurish (I'll leave the photo thing at that so I can pretend I didn't just apologize for the quality of my pix). After about thirty snaps, I figured I'd captured enough that would help me remember some of the things I love so much about little Meggie. Even with the photos though, will I really remember?

Will I remember how I loved the way she kicked her little legs like mad when she was excited? And how her legs have all those little lines and rolls in them?

Will I remember WHY I thought the way she crossed her little feet was so adorable?

Will I remember how I smiled at how "adult-ish" she seemed while resting her hand on her knee?

Will I remember how I loved those explorative, dimpled little hands and "rubber-band" wrists?

And will I remember the bright eyes, the perfect features, and the delicate little movements? And let's not forget how good she smells...oh my gosh.

And beyond any memories that a picture can store, what about the way all of my inside parts just want to burst when I look at her? What about that? Will I really be able to remember that?

What about when she's six and it's already one hour past bedtime and I've told her seven times already to brush her teeth and I'm fuming inside (and out) because I can tell I'm going to have to tell her for an eighth time and then I threaten to knock her teeth out with a screwdriver? Do you think I'll remember how my insides wanted to burst because she's such a special spirit?

And what about when she's seven and I've told her after every single meal for three years that she needs to clear her plate from the table because if she doesn't do it then who is going to do it, and somehow, oops, she forgot yet again and she'll never remember, even when she's twenty six and I'll still be grabbing her plate probably even after she's married and talking to myself (but loud enough that the whole house can hear and know that I'm irritated), "I guess I'll go ahead and get my maid duties done since I have to be in charge of everything and no one else seems to think they need to take on any responsibility around here but it's okay because I don't need a life of my own, I just want to serve all of you because it brings so much joy to my heart and I just have an over-valued sense of my own importance is all." What about then? Am I going to gush over her bright eyes and nice smell when that happens?

Oh gosh! Please don't let her grow up. I can't handle it. Mostly I can't handle what comes out in me as my children grow. I want to be patient with them as they learn. Why can I be patient with a baby who will take years to learn how to talk, yet I can't be patient with a 6 & 7 year old who need to be reminded to make their bed every day? It took Meg six and a half whole months to learn how to sit up by herself and never once did I yell at her or look at her crossly when she toppled over while trying and never once did I get exasperated wanting to know how many times we were going to have to go through this toppling-over crap before she would FINALLY get it?! Yet I can easily fly into a rage over a backpack left on the couch...someone's got some serious issues.

I just need to remind myself that just because my six- and seven-year-old girls can express themselves pretty darn eloquently and carry on what seems to be adult-like conversations, they still have the capabilities of six- and seven-year-old children. I've learned lots of things since I was six and seven and my parents, friends, and even God have been patient and understanding along the way. Maybe I could give that same gift to my girls.

Wrestling with growing kids and basking in the joy of an infant at the same time is an interesting matter. I find it ironic that I wonder if I will remember how I feel about Meg later on without trying to remember how I felt about my other girls as babies now that it is "later on" with them. Just being aware of this irony brings back memories that have been tucked away and overridden for a time by current needs & focuses. Today I'm going to remember not only what I loved about all of my girls as babies, but what I love about them today.