THE BLOG

Parenting Perspectives: Blink- and the Day is Done

09/26/2013 12:19 EDT | Updated 11/26/2013 05:12 EST

My life is pretty manic most of the time. I operate mainly on stress-mode. Push the fast-forward button. Live like there's no tomorrow. And there are days when I wonder if I will even make it to the end of the bedtime routine, not to mention the proverbial tunnel.

But every once in a while, I think to myself: "I wish I could freeze time. Just stop it- right here. And press the pause button." Holding on to those minutes which make up memories. Holding on to those memories that shape a lifetime.

Sometimes, when I am really feeling the love, I think about freezing a whole day- especially when it's been a particularly 'won-the-lottery' great one with everything coming up roses and candy canes. Or maybe it just seems that way. You know the kind- those 'once in a while' days when life just falls into place- they might happen once or twice a year; and pretty much- whenever I have one, I just want to freeze it.

Press pause. And savor the moment for a long, long while.

Tonight, as I was removing the cushions, teddy and pillows from M.A.'s bed and pulling back her covers, I thought to myself, "Hey! Didn't I do this, like, two seconds ago?" which in fact I hadn't because two seconds earlier I had been screaming like a drill sergeant for everyone to brush their teeth and stop fooling around already. But what I meant by that thought was this: it seemed like I had just done the 'pulling-back-the-bed-ritual' two seconds ago because that is the story of my life. Blink, and a day is gone. Yawn, and it's morning.

Turn around and it's tomorrow.

It seemed like only twenty seconds ago I had done this ritual because life feels like it is on speed-dial. Flying from minute to hour to day to month. Just like that.

So, in the thirty seconds or so that it took to adjust the pillows, find the books and settle the Monkey I read with every night, I secretly wished that I could freeze frame this 'going-to-bed' moment we were in right at that instant. Not because it was charming or spectacular or perfect.

But because it was real.

Sometimes I catch myself doing very mundane things- things that would ordinarily make me die a death from boredom if I wasn't living in a home that operated on a noise level that might someday break the sound barrier. And as I am doing said 'mundane activity'- like making a bed or some other exciting household chore, I think to myself: someday, years from now, I will remember that I was here in this room doing this very thing that is now driving me up the wall. And I will wish I was back in the moment that I am living today. I will remember the moment for its simplicity and its charm, and I will wish for it all back."

All this sentimentalizing is not to say that I love making and un-making beds (although I do rather LOVE bedtime)- but rather, this is to say that the crazy life I live in the here and now- it is wild and it is precious. It is full and rich. And although it is often insanely busy, it is so very beautiful.

Once in a while, I remind myself to stop and revel in the beauty of these sweet, everyday moments that I share with those I love. These days are rich with the important stuff which make the lives we live so very precious.

These everyday moments- they are priceless. Raw and real. And I'm learning to appreciate them.