The Noticing

"From there to here, and here to there, funny things are everywhere."
Dr. Seuss

Today's conversation between Trevor and I went like this:

"Trevor, have you seen Taryn? Like, did you see which way she went? She told me she would be out here playing with you."

"No. I didn't see her at all. Oh, man. Is Taryn going to be on an Amber Alert now?"

Things like this happen in our house all the time. Funny little conversations that are very serious to my 7 and 9 year old, but that just make my husband and I laugh. Oh, and don't worry. About 10 seconds after Trevor declared her about to be the subject of an Amber Alert, Taryn came walking up the sidewalk from the neighbor's house. Phew. Tragedy averted for another day.

People often tell me that my kids are funny. I don't think they are. I mean, they are. Yes. But I don't think that they are any funnier than anyone else's kids. I just think that I notice.

I have been keenly aware of my fleeting time with my children ever since I remember. When Taryn was 2, I called my best friend on Christmas morning and said, 'I can't believe I only have 16 of these left with her at home!" It isn't normal. Don't think for one second that I believe that to be a typical thing to occur to a mom of a toddler on Christmas morning, but that's my brain for you.

It can be a curse. In fact, I often have to force myself to enjoy the moment rather than stress out about it vanishing. But the gift of it is that I take a mental note of most of the little nuggets of humor, innocence, or childlike brilliance that come up in our day to day existence. I love to share them with my husband, or in blogs. And I think my hope in sharing them is to spark "the noticing" in other people. Almost inevitably another mom will say, "That reminds me, just the other day little Bobby said..."

How special it is for parents to take on a perspective that doesn't wish away the exhausting, needy, dependent years, but rather sees them as a fleeting blessing that must be purposefully observed, and recorded in the deepest crevices of our hearts.

Some day, when there are no more toys to trip over, or tears to dry, the memories of these funny little people trying to make sense of the world will be our best friends. Each face. Each mispronounced word. Each time they wondered if they would see their sibling on an Amber Alert when she was just at the neighbor's.

OK, maybe not that last one.