Don’t Forget

The other day my kids were looking through some old videos on my phone. “That’s you mommy? You sound so different!!”  The words were innocent and simple enough, but they cut to the heart. 

 See they don’t remember. 

My voice was sweet and airy, talking to my babies.  It sounded unfamiliar to them, when I had no need to coach, only to love.  Now a few years later, new responsibilities have come to them and they need to hear the coach too. 

But I don’t want to forget the love, too.  

I don’t want to forget to love, too.  Even if they forget.  

This is public serve announcement to myself and to all the other parents. To the aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, and so on.  

Don’t forget the middle kids.  

The ones that aren’t quite babies anymore, but aren’t so grown up that they’re at the big kid table, or not for long. 

The ones who zoom in and out of the family festivities, who grab snacks and dart off.  Who talk about things and places and games that you don’t understand.  Try to listen.  Look them in the eye and show them you care, even if it’s only for a moment.  Even if they upset your nervous system in all of their kinetic ways.  

The ones who no longer are toddlers or preschoolers, who don’t delight you with their tiny grins or miracle voices that somehow come out of little bodies.  

The ones who aren’t in their youngest or maybe their cutest years anymore, but aren’t quite grown up to be teenagers yet.  They may be missing teeth or have mismatched socks.  Their limbs may be longer and their faces changing before your eyes.  Go ahead and reminisce.  Remember who they were.  But most of all, try to see them for who they are, today. 

They may bore you with long stories.  They may talk your ears off (both of them!) They might be shy, but they still see you and hear you from behind that mop of hair.  They still notice. 

They might be awkward.   You might not know where they stand in life, or what they believe right now.  About anything.  They might not either.   

Assume the best.  Assume they still want to believe.  In love, in Christmas. In Santa and in the spirit of giving.   And definitely in themselves.  

Be gentle with them   Be patient.  Be as present and as kind as your attention span can allow, and then maybe a bit more. 

Play the game of uno.  Try to concentrate for five more minutes on whatever fantasy story or reality life action they’re attempting to share with you.

Because someday these littler ones will be gone too, absorbed into whatever brand of teenage years they have destined for them.   

But not before you get to love them a little more.  Bless them a little more.   

Because as hard as it is to imagine, they might not remember what you did before, when they were littler and tinier and maybe a bit easier to live.   The memories you’re making right now, this Christmas, might be the ones that they remember, even if it’s not the ones that you do.  

So pour into them- all the love and grace that you want them to carry forward.  They are not destined to become anyone’s problem but they can already be our shared delight.  To multiple returns.   

They will never be this little again.  They won’t actually.  

And you may never have this chance to make these gigantic tiny memories with them either.  Like how you listened.  How you believed in them.  How you loved.  You won’t, not today.   It might cost you your patience or your adult conversation. I know it.  

But it’ll be worth it.  Then even if they grown quiet for a few teenage years, at least they’ll know.  They know you love them.  They’ll remember how you care.  

So don’t wait-  pour in that love, already, and right now.  

They’ll need to know that they have it for the long haul.    

We all will. 🫶🏻❤️