The last several weeks I've been racing through my days totally out of breath. I look at an inbox overflowing and think to myself I'll just answer one more email and then I see the piles of laundry downstairs and think I'll just fold for ten minutes and then I walk through the family room and think I'll just sort the dvds real quick. And then, well then, the minutes are gone. The just a minutes added up and I stepped away from what I really wanted to do.
I want to be an attentive mom.
Not distracted. Not doing just one more quick but takes a lot longer thing.
My kids don't really care about that stuff.
They simply don't.
They need me to be willing to put down my list of things to do and to instead have enough discipline to sit and read the book again. And again. And again. And again. But, so often, it feels as if the daunting list is an unending uphill road of motherhood stuff to do. So much to do, and the real important right there in front of me. I look too much to the road and sometimes miss all the moments, those reading a book times, along the way.
Last night, Samuel was waiting for his story. I could see him, tired, and wandering around waiting for me the just a minute I'm going to do this quick in a second mom. Then he put his head on the couch and just rested and I knew I needed to immediately reassess my level of priority. So I get behind in my writing a bit. Or I don't get to all my emails right away {for those of you who have sent me kind emails or emails about Celiac Disease I will get back to you - it just takes time}. Or I don't finish folding the last load of clothes that has been waiting for me since 7pm last night.
He matters more.
Him and his Little Engine that Could book.
As I read those words, words that my father read to me, I finally slowed down from the endless need to-do now list. I began to rest in the moment, of the three year old leaning his head onto me, and the sweet smell of his hair, and the gentle cadence of his breathing. And I read, I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.
I think I can chose wisely during the day.
Samuel cheers for the little blue train who carried a load she didn't expect. He didn't know he was in fact cheering for his mother, the mom with her hair in a pony tail and her worn out jeans, holding him in her lap. He cheered because that little blue train chose to try even though she didn't know how she was going to get up the hill. She chose to keep trying because she valued those kids on the other side of the mountain.
I thought I could, I thought I could, I thought I could.
He cheered for her - and in that cheered for all of us.
I know I can do this.
I know you can do this too.
Sometimes we need a bit of encouragement and kind words. Sometimes we need to be reminded of priorities and when to let go of the to-do list for a bit. Sometimes we need to know it's okay that we plow through that to-do list. Sometimes we need to remember that we all have hard days. Sometimes we need to take note of the really great days.
It's all motherhood.
So today remember - I think I can.
Because I absolutely know you can.
That's my motherhood cheer for you.
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