Today you jumped into the tub with me.
I was taking a bath. Reading. Soaking.
I saw you take in my zen state. Your baby eyes brightened and you gave me that impossibly endearing grin before hauling your solid little body over the ledge.
Not too long ago I may have been aghast at a fully clothed babe clamoring his way into my tub.
But not today.
Today I want to cherish. I want to mark the moment.
I want to soak in every precious run-of-the-mill humdrum moment that my days are filled with right now. I want to write pages detailing every single shenanigan on the grooves of my heart. Every adventure. Every ounce of ordinary.
Because one day I want to pull these memories out like a beautiful stack of old letters, bound with a slip of mint ribbon.
When I’m no longer the one who the sun rises and sets on, I’ll pull out these letters of the heart, allowing their pictures to envelop me like a warm breeze.
I want to imprint our sweaty tickle fights on the couch. And how we dance wildly to Hall & Oates in the kitchen. And the time we played on the slip and slide all afternoon – you tackling me at the end without fail.
I want to capture the look on your face when you tumble off something you shouldn’t be climbing (which seems to be every moment of the day). You frantically scan the room for me, lock your eyes on mine, and leap into my arms. You squeeze my neck so tight, I practically lose consciousness. I love it. And when we’re in the car, nothing settles you but my hand in yours. You idly twist my wedding ring and press my palm against your warm cheek. For this oh-so-brief moment in your life, I can make everything all better. I know that won’t last.
At night, you sit heavy in my arms, your head resting contentedly on my shoulder as I softly sing His Eye Is On The Sparrow. Your curls tickle my chin as I pray that God keeps you safe and gives you sweet dreams and a strong moral compass and – please Lord – that you still think Mom is awesome when you’re thirty.
These are the heart snapshots I’m taking these days. I’m tucking them away. Because I know these days are fleeting. They are busy and exhausting and make me want to pull my hair out.
But they are also fleeting.
So I’m marking the moment.