Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Skipping

Me, age 39
 
I’m at the mall, where Christmas carols are playing. I get a little upset because it’s not even Thanksgiving yet. Aren’t we rushing things a wee bit?
 
I don’t know why I am appalled, seeing as though every year the world seems to launch directly into the Christmas season as soon as Halloween is over. I shouldn’t be surprised by this, but it’s always distressing to me when anything lovely and meaningful gets the shaft, and Thanksgiving is no exception.
 
It all comes down to this: I wish we could savor each distinct moment we happen to find ourselves in. It’s tedious and draining to constantly peer at what lies on the road ahead, ignoring the sweet spot of right now. We will never be able to enjoy this exact sweet spot again, so why are we trying to skip over it?
 
As I depart from the winter wonderland of the mall, I realize with a jolt that I am a total hypocrite. I admit to myself, with a good deal of shame, that in my role as a mother I regularly wish to fast forward through certain moments and jump headfirst into what’s next. I should have learned by now: The minute you catch yourself muttering, “I am so ready to be finished changing diapers,” all too soon you discover that your delectable toddler has turned into a feisty boy, wielding dangerous, pointy sticks to fight off imaginary monsters in the backyard. And the second you say, “Will my son ever stop wielding dangerous, pointy sticks to fight off imaginary monsters in the backyard?” he morphs into a first grader who fails his spelling test and gets in trouble for wrestling on the playground.
 
And so on and so forth.
 
Each moment in mothering presents its own unique set of challenges, but I need to learn how to be fully present where I’m at, regardless of what those challenges are. Because the view from here is inimitable and beautiful and rewarding in its own right. I must relish it before it disappears – and it will, in the blink of an eye.
 
No more skipping. Let’s hunker down and celebrate a divine Thanksgiving.
 
Christmas can wait.