Wednesday, March 23, 2011

My last 1 year old gives me a gift

I have a tonne of unpublished posts, this blog is like my little life record book. I write now for a lot of different sites but this is where I publish or don't, excerpts about our life.

One of these unpublished post is about the health struggles we have had with Tinsley this year. I cannot bring myself to publish it, the feelings are still to close and I feel the intensity of the fear that gripped me during those months.

In the post it tells of unusual incidents, miracles and odd coincidences that all led to saving Tinsleys life. Tonight on the eve of her turning two I read an amazing story, called "Heaven is for real". It is about a young boys brush with death and heaven. This story accurately describes the feelings I had when I realized my prayers were just answered.

Earlier tonight when I was milking the last day of having a one year old. I sat smelling her hair thinking how lucky I was to have her. How close we came to the edge.

Sometimes we get into the grind of chauffeuring kids here and there, getting them into a lot of activities.  Brushing their hair a little to hard, just to get it over with. Rushing them out the door or car. Being annoyed at their art work on our walls. This list could go on and on.

But tonight, sitting there smelling my precious daughters hair, realizing she is going to be a "terrible two". I made a promise to myself and it will be a gift to  my children.

  • I will take my time, I will show kindness and patience, it is what I would want to see reflected back. 

  • Not to care about the artwork on freshly painted walls. If I lost my girls tomorrow their drawings would be rare pieces of cherished artwork. Instead of instantly scrubbing it off, I will snap pictures. In a year it will be a fond memory.

  • I have never being a super scheduled mommy but I will schedule  for quality "at home" time. 

  • I have three daughters, brushing and styling hair is a fun task and I'm going to treat it that way or not do it!

If the worse were to happen, I don't want to remember pulling hair or getting to the pool ontime. I want to remember quiet moments smelling their messy hair.

And my children will grow up with memories of messy hair and a kind loving mom... who smelled them alot.