We’re closing up the Kveller shop and heading out to celebrate Thanksgiving. But before we go, we want to leave you with this post that offers an important reminder about the small stuff and why it’s really the big stuff. See you Monday!
So far this fall, my husband has stuffed 75 yard bags full of leaves. He didn’t mind, though, because as he blew the never-ending pieces of yellow, red and brown into piles on the lawn, our 2-year-old jumped into the middle of them, kicking and screaming with delight.
And that’s sad. Because next year, when he makes those piles again, a completely different girl will leap into them. A 3-year-old version of this weekend’s Ellie, with more abilities, more words, more thoughts. And that’s great. Except that it’s also sad.
My husband’s outlook on parenting lately has had this edge of sadness steeped in reality. He said he has been making a point of relishing every moment with Ellie because the child he plays with today will be gone tomorrow. Don’t get me (or him) wrong. He kvells from her development and knows that growth is the point, but he still mourns the changes, especially because they happen so quickly.
I’m busy. I am a stay-at-home mom with a full freelance writing schedule and a house to take care of. I confess that even as I play with Ellie, I am thinking about a story or wondering if the laundry is ready to go from the washer to the dryer. I’m not the best at being in the moment. So when my husband first mentioned how he felt to me, it stopped me in my tracks – and not much does.
A few days later, Ellie started jumping properly, catching air. I watched and applauded and hooted and hollered as she bounced around the basement testing out her new skill. And I got what my husband meant. Gone forever were the awkward yet hilarious movements she made when she thought she was jumping as well as a frog. Now she gets her feet off the ground and reaches new heights.
As Thanksgiving approaches, I feel thankful for many things but especially that I have a thriving daughter and a husband who is sensitive enough to notice the small stuff (which is actually the big stuff) and to nudge me into noticing it, too. We spend plenty of time on this blog complaining about our kids – they don’t eat, they don’t listen – so I wanted to take a moment to nudge you into thinking of those little bittersweet joys of parenthood and be thankful for the opportunity to bear witness to them.
