Moments

If you are a parent, particularly of small children, you probably understand what it means to live in the moment more than anyone else. At least, that's how I feel as a parent of little ones. Each moment is a gift or a curse, depending on the circumstance and my attitude. I can be gazing into the eyes of my infant as he smiles at me one minute, wondering how I came to be so blessed; and the next minute be cursing the day I was born as I wrestle with my defiant toddler while both children scream and thrash inconsolably. Since I became a parent, my life has turned into a patchwork quilt of moments, with the exquisite parenting masterpieces being sewn to the mustard color diaper explosions.

A few weeks ago my husband and I were able to venture out sans children and catch up with our close knit group of friends for a weekend. So of course I spent the majority of my time visiting with my fellow Mom friends and lamenting (with them) how quickly our children are growing up before our eyes. (It's easy to do that when I'm not having to deal with them.)

One friend recalled a moment she had with her oldest son, when he was still young enough to sit in her lap and be held. She said she remembered thinking that wouldn't last forever. He was growing up, and she could see a day in her future, when such moments would change as he matured. She became misty-eyed as the moment--still so clear in her memory--came to the front of her mind.

Coincidentally, I had a similar moment the very next day when we all gathered at our friends' house.

When I look at this photo, I'll remember seeing my son confidently climb up on my friend's piano bench and start playing enthusiastically. I'll remember being overwhelmed and unable to continue my conversation with my friend, as I recalled the day I was introduced to the piano and how I couldn't wait to learn to play. I'll remember being flooded with visions of my son as an infant along with imaginings of the future, when perhaps he will develop a passion for music. And I'll remember affectionately how we sat down and just played, discovering and rediscovering, together.

Crap! We have to start making our bed.

The other day I took the Monkey to the library for the second time in his life (the first doesn't really count because he wasn't old enough to destroy anything). They have an area with tables and chairs that's very well suited for him. I have never seen chairs that small, and he was able to sit down with very little help.

Our routine became: sitting together at the table, getting up to get new toys, taking a lap around the table, and finally sitting back down. We did this several times before the most wonderful, awful thing happened: he stood up from his chair and pushed it back under the table before leaving!

First I was beaming. I texted everyone I know to brag about how my 14 month old son is not only a genius (duh), but he also has manners. (Because they just come out that way, right? Some babies are just born rude, bless their hearts. But not mine. Nope. He's courteous.) I was so proud and a little impressed (I may or may not know another person with a similar genetic makeup, who seems to forget to push a chair in from time to time.), until it hit me: He was merely imitating me. That's what all people his age do. They see a parent do something, and if their motor skills cooperate, they do the same thing.

On the way home I realized he's going to start imitating us more and more, which means we have to start leading by example. Guess we have to start going to church more often and eating right. Read more. Drink less. Volunteer more (O.K., fine. just volunteer at all...for anything other than setting the DVR). Cut back on using "adult" words (it's just unrealistic to eliminate a part of my language cold turkey; it has to be gradual). And after a 20+ year hiatus, I have to start making my bed (ugh!). Thank goodness I've got pushing my chair in down pat! Looks like my other habits need a makeover!

What old habits have you tried to break since your little one arrived?