From This Moment

I had a moment last night. A moment of absolute peace and deep love. A moment that brought tears to my eyes and nearly brought me to my knees with thankfulness. I am so thankful for my little family. I am so thankful to have been blessed to be Pumpkin and her new baby sister's mommy.

But I am also thankful for God's mercy and forgiveness. That moment I had last night, as simple as it was, did not come without the shameful recognition of my own shortcomings as a mother.

Let me back up. I have always dreaded giving Pumpkin a bath. I feel guilty and judged even uttering the words, but it's true, I hated bath time. I would begrudgingly drag her in there short tempered and hurried, douse her head in water, scrub her down, and then sit nearby while she played with one eye on her and the other on my email or a book. I'd yank her out of there against her will and demand that she dry off and put on pajamas. And those were the days I didn't just force her to take a shower with me, which she hated and which scared her. It was awful. I was awful.

But even back then when mommy hated bath time, each bath or shower would end with Pumpkin snuggled up in her towel with her arms wrapped around me as tight as she could squeeze and her little wet head on my shoulder. We called it snuggle-bugging. It brings tears to my eyes even now thinking of how I took that sweet, tender moment for granted.

Fast forward to yesterday - many, many annoying bath times later and there we were - me and my little macaroni-and-cheese covered cutie ready to take a bath. She runs shrieking to her room singing "naked time" and stripping her clothes off. Next stop, tub-side to meticulously inventory the basket of tub toys - selecting some for submersion and others to be set aside for another day. It's then arms up, ready for mommy to plunk her down in the water, wiggling with the excitement. Her chubby little hands immediately reach for the running water which tickles her fingers to the point of a belly laugh. Her eyes then grow huge with expectancy as she looks at me and asks for the "princess bubbles." And though we do it every single night, she literally squeals with delight as the bubbles form around her. We blow the bubbles off our hands, splash water on each other, and swim rubber duckies and plastic dolphins around the tub catching them with toy nets.

It was a total of 15 minutes but it was pure joy for her. She nearly leapt into the towel I held in my open arms and squeezed tighter and harder than ever before. I just held her there, her little curls dripping down my cheek and onto my shoulder. I felt like that hug could have lasted forever and we would have both been okay with it. I held her so tight, wanting that moment to freeze in my mind until my last breath, despite the warm tears flickering on the edge of my eyelids. It was the deepest, purest, most intense moment of my life. It may have been Pumpkin that smelled like berry bliss, but it was mama who had been washed clean.

So what changed, you ask? I read about and joined an online movement known as the Hands Free Revolution (check it out on Facebook). As I sat in my office reading the stories of kids who felt they came second to their parents phones and computers and parents who missed important experiences with their children because they were checking email or Facebook, I began to literally sob with overwhelming guilt. How many songs had I missed the chance to sing in the car as we drove to or from school because I was yapping to someone else on the phone? How many games of make believe or ball had Pumpkin not played with me because my eyes were glued to one of my electronic devices? The fact that she can operate my phone as well as me was evidence enough that it was too much a part of our lives. I didn't want Pumpkin (or her baby sister) to grow up associating mommy with a cell phone. I want mommy to conjure memories of laughter and games and loving and hugs - not frantic texting, one armed hugs with a phone glued to my shoulder, or silent car rides while mommy conducts business or gossips.

When I get home now I put the phone away and focus on what is really important. The emails will all be there in the morning. It's those little moments, like a belly laugh because there are bubbles on mommy's nose, that matter. It's those moments that make up a life and I'm not letting any more of my life (or my girls') pass me by.