If I Could Do It Again
By Christy Parks
Like every
new mother I stressed, yelled, and complained. I couldn’t wait for the day when
my kids could do more for themselves and give me a break. I couldn’t wait for
the day when I no longer had to stay up until three in the morning to ensure
the visit by Santa would remain secret. I couldn’t wait for the day when I no
longer had to sneak into my kids’ rooms, tripping over toys, and slip money
under their pillowcase in exchange for a blood stained tooth.
Now that my kids are in high school, edging toward adulthood, I can’t
help but wonder where the time went. Sure, I wanted the time to fly a little
faster, to get some time for myself, to allow at least one day when I could
sleep past six am. I was a fool.
As I set about
decorating for the holidays, shopping for the perfect gift, my heart is a
little broken. No longer do I get to hunt up and down the toy aisles, searching
for the coolest and noisiest toys possible. No longer do I get a child bundled
up in foot pajamas climbing up onto my lap to watch Rudolph, Frosty, and
Charlie Brown. Sure, my kids still enjoy hanging around me at times, but there
are no more little hands slipped into mine when we cross the street, no more
tear streaked faces over tiny scrapes and boo boos.
Where did the time go?
I didn’t get the
same amount of time as others, as my children didn’t come into my life until
they were four, five, and six years old. There are no baby pictures hanging on
my walls, but there are memories everywhere. There are no memories of the first
step or the first word, but there are memories of the first time my kids called
me mom, the first time they said they loved me, and the first time I realized
my heart was swollen with love for these three.
If I could do it
all again I would slow down, listen to every tiny detail of their day, let them
paint, color, and build as many mud pies as they could fit into a day. I would
pull them onto my lap and watch lightening bugs flash in the summer night sky.
If I could do it all again, I would sing more, read more books to them, and
take more field trips to the zoo, Grant’s Farm, Purina Farms, and any and every
museum I could find. If I could do it all again I would let them cook alongside
me no matter how big of a mess they made, I would let them roll the dough, and
I would let them decorate the cookies by themselves, even if the gingerbread
man’s eyes didn’t match.
If I could do it
all again I would enjoy every single second and would never wish for them to
grow up a little faster.
