Every so often, I find myself reminiscing about simpler times, about the person I used to be. I can still picture myself perched on my rooftop, gazing at the dramatic thunderstorms sweeping through Kansas while chatting on the phone. The scent of rain-soaked shingles lingers in my memory.
I recall the sheer joy of staying up late on a weekend, knowing I had no obligations the next morning. I could sleep in as long as I wanted, rolling out of bed whenever I felt like it.
Driving along country roads with the windows down, music blasting, inhaling the sweet summer air, and getting flirted with at stoplights was a cherished freedom. I remember taking my sweet time getting ready and still never being on schedule.
Going to the store alone, browsing the mall, enjoying meals without interruptions—those were the days when my biggest stressors revolved around whether a guy would call me or not having weekend plans. I wasn’t being selfish; I was just living for myself. I was adventurous, a dreamer, and I couldn’t possibly comprehend the changes that awaited me.
It’s easy to look back fondly on those carefree days, especially now that I’m deep in the whirlwind of motherhood. I always envisioned a grand life filled with significance. I never realized how small a “big life” could feel. I’m not out there changing the world or traveling the globe like I once dreamed. Instead, my days are filled with being called to offer moral support during potty breaks, preparing juice, changing diapers, and feeling utterly exasperated when my toddler is in full meltdown mode.
My outings to Target are often just a chance to escape the house. I’m constantly spoon-feeding, making sandwiches, folding laundry, and then folding it again when tiny hands mess it up. I’m cleaning the bathrooms while my older child “helps” by spraying water everywhere. I’m always trying to match my husband’s socks, keeping track of everyone’s belongings, and engaging in a never-ending cycle of chores.
I’m woken by a little voice asking for snuggles and surrounded by sweet toddler songs and baby babbles. I get “I wub you too” and slobbery, snotty kisses, and I find myself singing “You are my sunshine” on repeat with a baby permanently attached to my hip. I skip makeup and pants, squeezing in quick showers, and yet my husband still finds me beautiful.
Sometimes, I slip back into those old memories for a moment or two, sometimes stretching into an entire afternoon depending on how the day is going. But inevitably, my thoughts return to my present—my boys and my partner—and I would choose this life time and time again.
One day, I’ll sleep in again, but I know I’ll miss waking up to that tiny voice. I’ll travel and long for days spent building Legos in the living room. I’ll reminisce about tiny laundry loads and the smudgy fingerprints on the windows. I’ll get in the car without buckling anyone in and miss those moments of lifting my child into the shopping cart and chatting through the aisles. I’ll miss my overflowing bag of diapers, wipes, cars, and snacks.
The days may feel long, but the years fly by. I haven’t saved the world yet, but the dreamer within me is still alive and thriving. The greatest dream I’ve ever had is my reality right now, and I’m completely in love with it.
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In summary, while the past holds fond memories, my current experience in motherhood is unparalleled. The love and chaos that fill my life today make every moment worthwhile.