After the chaos of Monday, I had a quiet, tender moment with my son this morning. I sat by him as he woke, watching his long eyelashes flutter open, his rosebud lips, fair skin and the curly mop at the top of his head. He reached slowly for my hand — angelic and sweet. While his waking hours swing from absolute joy to “Calgon, take me away!” moments, his sleep is always simple, soft and pure.
Those peaceful moments help me remember how quickly time passes. With a 19-year-old and a 16-year-old at home, I’m often reminded that children grow fast. I treasure being a mom, but after years of parenting it’s easy to feel weary, especially when problems pile up and plans fall apart.
One look at that sleeping, serene face and all the Monday fuss seems trivial. A missing shoe? It hardly matters. I feel steadier today and ready to handle whatever comes next. Seeing that picture on Pottery Barn Kids brought back a flood of memories and even made me tear up. I miss so many small things from when he was a baby. Those years held sleepless nights, spit-up on my shoulder and endless diapers, but also the sweetness of a tiny face, bright curious eyes and the delight of every first milestone.
Remembering those moments makes me want to slow down instead of rushing toward tomorrow. Right now I have a seven-year-old who talks about soccer championships, trophies, bugs, bodily functions and superheroes. He’s loud, dramatic and full of fun. Later today I’ll go through his room, sorting things for the new school year and letting go of pairs of jeans and shoes that no longer fit. It’s easy to swear they fit yesterday, and today I’m choosing to treasure him at seven.