Pieces to the puzzle

My life as a stay at home mom has lots of perks. I have the greatest job that allows me to watch my children grow and develop on a daily basis. I get to live my children’s lives with them, not just be a part of it. I know things will always be pretty consistent –I will be the one they seek throughout the day for help, I’m the one they use for security, and I know every day I get to wake up to their precious, smiling faces. In turn, I also find that I dependent on that consistency. I know if I sit on the couch for a second, one of my two (or both) will crawl on top of me and hug me, while cuddling. They are “in tune” to me, as I am to them.

But once in a while, my parents take my daughter for the day –to just have “their time” (like old times). I often enjoy this because I’m able to focus just on my son and do fun activities together that usually cannot be completed with chaos that ensues on a normal day. Then when he naps, I’m able to clean undisturbed (you know, clean without a child pulling out the things you’re putting away), do laundry, and even sit down and participate in social media.

But when I do all these, something strange happens. My ears ring from the quiet. I walk through my house admiring all the things she loves –all little scattered pieces of her –they bring me close to her. I miss my daughter running in and out of every room that I’m in to ask 500 questions, I miss that curious mind of hers. I miss her high energy as she flies around the house, singing every song she knows by heart, while doing a silly dance. I miss her asking to help with anything and everything that I’m doing, just to be a part of it. I miss the excitement that fills her eyes when I read book after book after book to her.

It’s only a few hours that she is not with me, but I feel like a part of me is missing. I’m used to the consistent pattern of both my children by my side. She of course, is having a blast with my parents (as they worship the ground both of my children walk on) and doesn’t even want to talk to me on the phone when I call 30 times. In the background I hear her singing, or playing preschool, or playing some fun game that my parents just invented, then I’m able to remain content for a few more hours knowing how much fun she is having.

When my parents arrive, I’m already standing in the driveway, waiting to run over to cradle her out of the car seat. With a huge smile, she tells me all the things they did. She usually has a picture for me that she created all by herself. And once again, the buzzing chatter from her song bird voice fills our home and the whirl wind of her high energy completes the evening. I sit and bask in the excitement that she brings with her, while she tackles her brother from excessive hugs. I slowly feel the pieces of the puzzle fit nicely back together. In this moment, I am complete again. I am fulfilled in every aspect, because of their love.