It’s too-late-o’clock and our children are supposed to be in bed asleep, but our sweet little four-year-old is proudly holding a piece of paper, desperately trying to get my attention for me to see what she worked so hard on in school that day before she lays her head down to sleep.
I am on the phone trying to get help for our sweet pup, who has been sick for a few days and not seeming to get better. She looks at me, with her sweet 4-year-old little face, wanting me to give her all of my attention, and I gave her the “just one second, baby” phrase that many of us moms know all too well. She asked a few more times as I was still trying to get help for our puppy until she sadly and defeatedly walked away to her bedroom, with the paper still in her hand. As she walked away with her shoulders hunched, I heard her sniffle, and I felt so torn.
After being on the phone for over an hour, I went into her room to tuck her in “snug as a bug in a rug” and to say our prayers, just as we do every night (I make sure to still do our routine even if they are already asleep, hoping it protects them and gives them lovely dreams). That is when I stopped in my tracks and tears filled my eyes. There she was, asleep, looking like an angel… and still holding that piece of paper in her tiny hands; waiting to show me.
I walked out of her room holding that piece of paper. My eyes were filled with tears and I was trying not to let them fall as I approached where my husband was sitting in the other room. He saw the defeat on my face and asked what was wrong. After seeing the paper in my hands, he knew why I was hurting, as he had witnessed her trying to get my attention earlier as I was being summoned in a different direction. I told him that I felt so badly about what had happened and that I was just trying to help our dog. He lovingly reassured me that it was okay and that she would understand when I explained it to her in the morning.
Hearing that was nice, but I somehow wanted to try to make it up to her. So, I put the stack of papers that she came home with that day in a pile on the coffee table, where I knew she would see them first thing in the morning. I put them there, with the paper she wanted to show me so badly the night before, on the top.
The next morning, I was awakened by that same sweet little face, big-eyed and filled with the same excitement as the evening before. She had that same paper in her hand (I was relieved that she found it right away where I left it for her to see first thing). It was as if she was showing me for the first time. I smiled and lifted her right onto my bedside, excited for her to show me and tell me everything about it. And, she did; proudly and intently. And I listened with the same pride and intent.
At that moment, I realized how it isn’t as important to be always readily available every single time our children need us, but rather to be completely present and attentive when we are available. Realistically, no matter how much we would love to be, it’s impossible to be available every single moment. Yet, the moments that our children will remember forever most likely won’t be the moments that we weren’t available, but rather the moments that we were completely present, showing them that nothing else matters while making those memories together.
Nothing in the world is more important to me than my children. Nothing deserves my attention more than my children either. I want them to know that, always. However, sometimes we have to choose; we have to prioritize our time/energy/resources. Sometimes, things take precedence over others. And sometimes, as those of us with more than one child knows, one child may need us more than the other.
My daughter doesn’t remember that I wasn’t available when she first tried showing me her paper that evening, but she does remember showing me in the bed that next morning. That told me everything about what matters most.
Do you have a similar story of feeling like you let your child/ren down?
I’ve learned the silver lining is always what is learned and discovered from the times we feel like we fall short, and knowing that we’re always doing our best.
