The pace of life has been frenetic of late. All of the end-of-school year brouhaha has more than caught up with me. It has taken me over, left me in the dust. As I watch all of the details I am supposed to be remembering rapidly pull away, grow tiny on the horizon, I am scratching my head wondering how exactly I got so far behind. And then there is today: Mothers’ Day. Usually I have already had a Mothers’ Day tea with my mom and siblings. Usually, I have situated myself well for a day of rest and relaxation. Today, I have a mountain of things to get done and little inspiration to achieve them. I am overwhelmed and just want to lie down and take a nap. Given that it is Mothers’ Day after all–perhaps I should.
When I get to feeling like this–all wrapped up in the minutia–I try to step back and survey the scene from a great distance for perspective. When time has passed–say 5 years from now–what will I remember about today? Will I remember all of the things I have NOT accomplished…the school shirts I haven’t ordered, the papers I need to look through and organize, the empty refrigerator that needs to be filled, the lawn that needs to be mowed, the sprinklers that need to be fixed…or will I remember the snuggles I had with my boys, the delicious breakfast we shared, the run with my sweet and trusty and deaf old dog. Five years from now, will my memories be filled with images of the laundry that needs to be folded or the beautiful cards, noodle necklace, drawings and paintings the boys made? These are the things that will go in the memory box. So why don’t I just start focusing on them now? Why wait 5 years to remember what’s important and let go of all the rest?
And so, to begin, here is the card that Boris made. It says: “Dear Mom, I like to watch TV with you. I like Jake [and the Neverland Pirates], Special Agent Oso, Mickey Mouse, and The Three Mousekateers.” It’s signed expertly in his 4-year-old scrawl next to a beautiful picture of his smiling face.
Oscar made me a watercolor painting. On the back, he wrote “Querida mamá, te quiero mucho! Eres fuerte y hermoso. Me gusta cuando juegas conmigo. Eres la mejor mamá del mundo entero. Con amor, Oscar” It means “Dear Mama, I love you very much! You are strong and beautiful. I like when you play with me. You are the best mom in the whole world. With love, Oscar.”
When I start to drown in all that hasn’t been done, I will pull up these sweet little love notes from my boys and cling to them until the sea calms and I feel that I can swim to safety. All of these things that seem so urgently pressing today are dwarfed by the knowledge that I am connected to two beautiful souls who–even on my most disorganized, worst day–love me and at least for this precious moment think that I am strong and beautiful and the best mom in the whole world.
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