The easy thing to do would be to call my latest knitting project done.
Technically, I’ve finished it twice already. But it’s not yet done.
Being unafraid to call a “do-over” on something until I’m comfortable with and ready to accept the results: that’s something to be grateful for!
We had, maybe, about 20 minutes to kill before picking up the baby at daycare this afternoon.
So we hoofed it to a nearby coffee shop.
He had cocoa, I had tea.
We talked about all kinds of things, and even had a game to see who could spot the first silver car among the traffic outside the coffee shop.
Just 20 minutes, but for a kindergartener who’s been sharing his mom with a baby sister he loves, it was a worthwhile investment in keeping a connection that’s been uniquely ours for the past 5 years.
I told him we could tell Daddy all about our date or keep it a secret. He told his Daddy that he had been on a secret date.
It really was my treat. One I savored and was grateful for.
I was treated to a flood of memories today as I prepared a recipe from my family. It was one I’ve seen my father make a number of times, but today was the first time my son helped me make it.
Watching him stand on tiptoe to see over the edge of the pot on the stove, tasting, smelling and sharing his own ideas was like looking into a mirror on the past.
Memories like those are what make some recipes treasures. Adding this memory today is one I’m only too grateful to do.
It was this time last year, as I snuggled my son to sleep, that I wondered how these snuggles would be once he was a big brother,
Tonight, I learned: he happily makes room for his little sister.
And I feel so, so lucky.
There’s something both sad and a little scary about finishing touches. Scary over the thought that there’s still time to screw it up. Sad that the project is nearly done.
But I’m also grateful, because I’ve proven to myself that I still have the skills to get it done.
There’s something that feels incredibly precious when it hits you that your loving words are the last ones your child will hear from you before drifting off to sleep:
“Every day, I love you more than I did the day before.”
What a privilege that is.
There’s nothing chauvinist about the act of holding doors open for someone.
It’s a tiny acknowledgment that you exist, you matter in this wide world, and your journey is not a lonely one.