When my children were young I was always saying I couldn’t wait until they grew up. I imagined all the free time I was going to have to do my thing. Writing, reading and just lying on the couch eating Oreo Cookies. Not to mention all the extra money I would have since I didn’t have to take regular trips to Toys”R”Us or buy them a whole new wardrobe every school year. I relished the idea of sleeping late on Saturday mornings without having cartoons blaring in my ears. The teenage bickering over curfews, car usage and parental guidance rating on movies would all be behind me. Hallelujah.
But it turns out I could’ve waited. Much longer. Sometimes I miss them so much it’s unbearable. I miss the fun we had together fighting the waves on the beach, or the thrill of riding crazy attractions at amusement parks or hearing them go through the Christmas catalogues picking out all the things they wanted Santa to bring them. I even miss the disagreements, the trips to the toy store and preparing for school. I miss it all.
It’s funny how life can turn on you. If only I knew then what I know now I would have held my children tighter, listened to their stories with more enthusiasm and enjoyed those morning cartoons on the floor alongside them. I don’t think I could have loved them with any more fieriness than I do already. But I would have cherished every moment like it was golden. Because it was.
