My girls are growing up so fast! Friends and colleagues around me are having babies, and instead of cringing at how hard it was, I’m starting to remember those days fondly. I’m also looking around at my two girls, currently 9 and 13, and wondering what they’ll remember of their time growing up with me as their mom.
I don’t mean the trips or the gifts, that’s for a different post (take the trip!). I mean, will they remember the rides to rehearsal as fun pockets of time when we caught up, or as silent, awkward drives because I’m frustrated that the nights are late, and the homework isn’t done?
It’s a bit of a reframing, but I’m trying to take a breath when I get frustrated, or I’m tired, and I don’t want to actively participate and think to myself, “but what will they remember?” and I don’t want it to be that I wasn’t there.
I think as busy parents, we have to acknowledge that we can’t do it all, so we have to do what counts. I’m also trying to really be in the moment. My nine-year-old was reading a book to me the other day, a book I vividly remember reading to her when she was so tiny. What struck me the most was how short the book was. At one point, I looked up to see what page we were on, and I saw the staple down the center, indicating we were halfway through, and it brought me back so quickly to the times I would count the pages to the staple, knowing I was halfway through the book. And now, I felt like it had just been a minute or two of her reading, and we were already at the staple.
The world looks different from this side of parenting. And so, with this in mind, here are a few things I’m doing to be more present; not just for me, but for them and their memories.
1. I’m trying to pay attention to my children’s cues.
What I really want to do is ask rapid-fire questions about their day, life, homework, and test scores. But I’m recognizing that line of questioning doesn’t lead to an enjoyable conversation for me or them. And so, I’m taking their lead. If we’re feeling chatty, I may ask an open-ended question and hope they’ll share.
If it’s quiet, I’ll turn the radio to their favorite station and hope a song we all love comes on so we can sing. I’m recognizing that when they get out of the car, if this is a moment they remember, I want it to be for peace and not prying.
2. When they ask for help, even when I know they can do it themselves, I’m taking a breath and helping.
I want this memory to be that they needed me and I was there, not that I left them to figure it out on their own. There will be plenty of time for that when I’m not around, but if I’m here, I want to be remembered as a helper.
3. I’ll play the games.
This one is specifically for my nine-year-old. She still likes to play; whether it’s a board game, dolls, dress-up drawing, or “paper games” as she calls them (hangman, tic tac toe, etc. And here’s what you need to know: I really do not like playing. I’ll read books all day, snuggle up and watch a favorite show, and sing at the top of my lungs; those are in my wheelhouse. But making little voices to pretend I’m a doll is not for me.
And I’ve said no so many times, for many, many years. But the little voice inside my head tells me that these are the moments she’ll remember. So, I’m trying to embrace my inner child and play more, no matter how tired I am, or how long my “to-do” list is, because when she looks back, I want to know that this memory was of a snapshot in time when we had fun according to her plans, not mine.
I think the point of this whole story is that I’m looking back at memories I have with my mom growing up: drives to the mall, creating the sign for my soccer team, surprise presents in my lunch box for my birthday or Valentine’s Day.
