Dear Paxton and Michael,

I struggle with the ‘right now.’

Growing up, I couldn’t wait to get older.  In elementary school, I anxiously anticipated junior high.  Once I was in junior high (and not loving it), I knew high school would be my time to shine.  In high school, my heart was already in college.  All 5 years of college.. I couldn’t wait to graduate and really start living.

In my former life, or at least 5 years ago, I was a bit of a runner.  I wasn’t ever a good runner, but I can say that for a brief moment of my life, I ran.  During this flash of being semi in-shape, I did a few half-marathons.  I’m not sure why I did them, because I pretty much hated every step of the way, but that finish line… that finish line gave me a sense of accomplishment that was unparalleled.  I got through those races by constantly focusing on the next mile marker until I saw the one that said 13.1.

When it’s summer, I secretly dream of the first snowfall of the season.  When it’s cold and snowy, I imagine myself soaking in the warm sunshine of summer.

Pax, when I was pregnant with you, I wished every day away.  I prayed for the time to go faster so I could get to the finish line- your birthday.  Once you were here, I kept waiting for the “next things.”  I strategically placed you on your side, leaning ever so slightly, until I could say you were “rolling over” on your own.  I wedged you between the boppy until I could tell my other mom friends that you were sitting up.  We practiced saying “mama” for hours.  Once you were crawling, I was waiting for you to start walking  It never stopped.

It’s no secret that I wasn’t ready to go back to work after a rough maternity leave.  I decided I would simply make it to Thanksgiving break, my chance at a redo on learning Michael, on playing with you, on not feeling like I was on my death-bed.  When I made it to Thanksgiving, I set my eyes on the next prize… Christmas break.  I’ve never stopped looking at what’s next.

Right now.

These words fly out of your mouth so often.  As your parent, I should try to limit the number of times you say it, as it sounds quite bossy, but instead I laugh, every single time.  You have the patience of a gnat, and you’re pretty vocal about getting your way.  It’s one of the many catchphrases you’ve picked up recently.  Some of my other favorites- “Oh no, not again” and “Best day ever!”  You’ve also started a game with Pop-Pop where he pretends he’s sleeping and you go over and yell, “WAKE UP” or “COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO” as loud as you can so he can ‘wake up’ and get you.  It’s funny, really funny… until you started doing it in church every time we are praying. A couple of weeks ago, there was a man two pews in front of us who was nodding off during the service.  I’ll admit it… we were supposed to be praying confessions, but I was using every second of that prayer to plead with God that you would not go up to that old man and scream “COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO” in his ear.

Right now.

You say it when you are hungry, when you want to play, when you want to go to your own version of the most magical place in the world- Ammy’s house.  Technically, it’s Ammy and Pop-Pop’s house, but you have only called it Pop-Pop’s house once…and that was when you said, “Ammy’s house, right now” and I replied that Ammy wasn’t home (I lie to you quite often) and you said, “Pop-Pop’s house!”  You are crazy smart, sweet girl.  You say it when you want me to put Michael down and play with you.  5 minutes isn’t an option- it’s right now or never.

Right now.

Life is flying by. Your cousin, Lane Austin, was born on November 20th.   We had a great little Thanksgiving break.  We went up to Uncle Logan and Aunt Kelsey’s house, so they wouldn’t have to travel with a one week old. Daddy held Michael while I took Lane’s newborn pictures and while you were supposed to be napping.  I can’t wait to watch the three (or more) of you grow up together.  I can already hear you bossing those boys around, telling them where they need to be, what they need to be doing… right now.

We had a few weeks of school in December, and then it was Christmas break.  On Saturday, Grandma Connie, Grandpa Joe, Aunt Jodi, Uncle Steve, Grady, and Liam came out to visit from Illinois.  You hadn’t seen most of them since the beginning of September, when Michael was born.  I was anxious for you to run around with the boys and I was anxious to see how you’d be with sharing your toys.  It’s the one worry I have about you not being in a daycare or around other kids.  I hope you know how important it is to share.  You loved chasing Grady everywhere, and your laughs echoed through our house.  Liam had been sick with a fever, and while they thought it was gone, it came back the day they got here.  It was a short visit, but you put on a show, like always.  They stayed at a little hotel/cottage down the road and we did some hiking and went to the Dinosaur Museum in Woodland Park to see Santa (still not a fan-unless he’s on TV).  They left in a hurry, to get Liam home and feeling better where he was more comfortable.  We felt so awful for him being sick away from home, and at the same time, I was also concerned with you both getting sick.  Your daddy, Ammy, and I disinfected every toy in this house and crossed our fingers.

Gee, Papa, and Uncle Greg flew in from Florida the day that everyone else left. Pax, you put on another show for them- singing in your new microphone and dancing on top of laundry baskets.  You bust out, “We wish you a Merry Christmas” in a beautiful tone, and spread both arms out to the side and shake your head as you say, “And a haaaaaapppy new yeeeeeeeear!”  It’s the cutest.

Christmas Eve came and Uncle Logan, Aunt Kelsey, and Lane came down from Denver.  I was still concerned that one of you would get sick and then pass it to Lane, who was way too young to handle it.  You played hard during the day, and then it hit.  Around 5:30, when everyone was getting ready for dinner, you walked over, sat in my lap, and said, “Home, James.”  (That’s what you always say when you want to go home.  We started it back in October, and I didn’t know it would stick!)  I could feel your fever when you sat in my lap and my heart sank.

I had all these big plans for Christmas.  As much as I try to not have expectations, I always do.  We had it all mapped out- dinner at Ammy and Pop-Pop’s, open one gift (new Christmas jammies), bath time and then reading The Night Before Christmas.  In the morning, you’d wake up and see your gifts from Santa and we’d watch you light up in the magical way that all kids light up on Christmas morning.  Then, we’d head to Ammy and Pop-Pop’s for more presents and biscuits and gravy.  So here we were, on Christmas Eve with a fever.  We came home and tried to get you to eat a little something, and then you had a pretty early bedtime.  You didn’t listen to the book, but we read it to Ike anyway.  It was nothing like I pictured… you rolling around and chatting to yourself, Ike sitting in my lap drooling, and your daddy reading the book.  I hoped and prayed it was all a fluke, but started to doubt that Christmas day was going to be much fun.

You woke up, not quite yourself, but not super sick either.  You were excited about your new play kitchen, but had absolutely no interest in any of your other presents or your stocking.  I’m so glad I took the time to wrap all of those presents that your dad and I unwrapped for you while you were in a completely different room.  You spent the next hour making grilled cheese sandwiches in your play kitchen. I texted Ammy that we wouldn’t be coming over since you still had a bit of a fever.  I didn’t want you around Lane, but after talking to Aunt Kelsey, Ammy convinced us to go over for a bit.

Despite not feeling your best, you helped pass out presents, and especially enjoyed that Uncle Logan and Aunt Kelsey put pictures on the presents to show who they were going to.  You were both absolutely spoiled rotten in a room full of people who just might think you are as incredible as I do.

We spent the next several days hanging out at Ammy and Pop-Pop’s house and watching you perform through a snotty nose and a fever.  It’s impossible to be anything but happy when we’re around you.  You helped bake cookies and then passed them out to everyone.  You bounced in your trampoline and learned how to do “butt busters.”  You played your harmonica with Papa, stomping your feet and turning in circles.  Ike was passed around from one set of loving arms to another.  They flew back to Florida on December 30th and then we had a few days at home to settle in and explore new toys.  We had a few days of making snow angels, having snowball fights, making snow ice cream, watching Mickey’s Once Upon a Christmas 45 times. We had a few days where I was reminded just how much my soul needed to be filled with you both.

Right now.

Pax, right now I look at you and I can’t believe we just celebrated your 2nd birthday.  Your daddy and I filled the house with balloons and put streamers on the door.  We had a simple little celebration with Uncle Logan, Aunt Kelsey, Lane, Cathie, Ammy, Pop-Pop and the Whites.  We had strawberry shortcake and listened to you sing Happy Birthday to yourself countless times. When anyone would ask how old you are now, you look at them and say, “2 months.”  I look back at the details that went into your first birthday party, and I want to smack myself in the face.  I was so concerned with putting on a regular pinterest show, and while it was a lot of fun, you’ll never remember it or appreciate the effort I put forth after having the flu, ending up in the hospital, and finding out I was pregnant all in one week!  At 2 years old, you no longer have the baby look.  You are gaining height, but not coordination.  I’m amazed at just how many times a day you still fall over.  Your hair has gotten so long, and the curls still bounce when you walk.  Your belly hangs out of the majority of your shirts, even though you are wearing 4T and 5T shirts at 2 years old.  I’m convinced they need a maternity line for toddlers. You love to run around the ‘circle’ in our house and you beg for Daddy to ‘follow you.’  You watch two things religiously… Paw Patrol and Mickey’s Once Upon a Christmas.  Daddy tried to hide it from you after Christmas, but after several hours of you asking for it, he gave in.  We’ve started going to a little church down the road with a maximum attendance of maybe 35 people.  When the choir gets done singing, you clap loudly and yell, “Yay!”  On week 2, you squatted in the middle of the aisle and started pooping, but that’s a different story for a different day.   I’m amazed at the words you can string together.  I’m not sure where you’re picking up all these lines, but I’m so glad they’re here…right now.  We asked if you wanted mac n’ cheese last night and you said, “I guess so.”  Daddy asked if I needed anything from upstairs and then he asked you, just to be silly.  We were laughing so hard when you said, “No, Daddy, I fine.”  Two nights ago you came running out of the bathroom, completely naked and climbed up in the big bed where I was feeding Michael.  You said, “Mommy, where’s my butt” then stood up, looked at yourself in the mirror and said, “Oh yeah, there it is!”  You love to look at yourself in mirrors, which makes me laugh because when I was growing up, Ammy made me switch where I sat at family dinners so that I would stop staring at myself in Grandma’s mirror instead of eating.  You and I, we’re a humble pair.  You crawled over to my lap last night before bed, hugged me tight and said, “I love mama!”  And just like that, nothing else matters.

Right now.

Michael, you are the sweetest little guy I have ever known.  You have rolls that go on for days and a smile that causes wiggles all the way down to your chubby little toes.  You sleep like a champ and love to be talked to.  You’ve really started to enjoy being read to, which as a reading teacher, I’m completely ok with.  You stretch your arms straight out and stare at your hands like you can’t figure out who put them on the ends of your arms.  Then there’s that laugh.  It starts as a deep belly roll and then turns into this high pitched squeal that leaves my heart walking around on the outside of my body.  You love bath time and you love to stand.  We can’t believe how strong you are.  You’ve started talking to us in your dinosaur voice and I’m pretty sure all the roars mean that you love me, too. 🙂  I simply can’t imagine life without you.  I also can’t believe there was a time when I thought I’d never be able to love another child like I love your sister.  It’s an equal love, but a different love- a whole part of my purpose that I didn’t know I was missing.  We spent hours, just you and I, rocking in the chair over Christmas break.  Me, staring at your eyelashes while my arms gave out from holding your weight.  You, snuggling your puppy dog against your face and squeezing my finger through your sweet baby dreams.

I wish I had a pause button on life.

I wish I could stay in the perpetual state of “right now” because I’ve missed so much of it.  While I was waiting for Pax to hit her next milestone, I was missing the most beautiful girl in the ordinary, everyday, beautiful chaos.  While I was trying to make it to Thanksgiving and Christmas break, I missed hours of weeknights that I could’ve been reading to you both, chasing Pax around the house, kissing Michael on the belly and hearing him squeal. I could’ve been doing anything besides wishing it was tomorrow, next week, next month. While I was daydreaming of the summer sunshine, I was neglecting the beauty of the snow glistening on the tree branches.  While I was looking for mile marker 8, I can tell you nothing about mile marker 7.

I need to make some promises to you both starting today.  I promise to embrace the ordinary, the right now.  I promise to not take ‘today’ for granted.  I get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach when I think about all I already have.  I promise to not focus on the finish line, but rather the journey.

I’ve talked before in a previous post about how I always picture people the same way- in a certain outfit, at a certain age.  I always picture my mom, Ammy around 36 years old.  It blows my mind that in a blink I will be the very same age that I picture my mom.  I look in the mirror and I don’t know when it happened, but I’m not 18 anymore.  I went shopping a couple of weekends ago and I actually celebrated finding a pair of pants that go up to my belly button, hiding the trophy… aka the spare tire that is my not so pride and joy from carrying two perfect babies.  I put on clothes now and I ask myself if they look too young for me, and the scary part is, some actually do.  I returned from Christmas Break at school and one of the kindergarteners said, “Mrs. Powell, I know what you did over break, you got skinny.”  I wish that was true kid, but I didn’t get skinny, I discovered spanx…and I may never go back.  I’ve given up the struggle of pulling the random grey hairs I find.  I’ve given up the idea of trying to stay up past 9:30.  When did I get here and what did I miss along the way?

29 years have gone by.  29 years to embrace the right now instead of searching for the next.  I promise that mile marker 30 and on will be different. Today is the only chance I have for today.  The only chance I have to be here in this moment…in this right now. I promise to stop simply getting through, but instead start living, learning, and loving the right now.  I promise to invest so much more of myself in the right now, in the snuggles in the rocking chair, the poops in the middle of the church service, the high-pitched squeals and the endless hours of Mickey’s Once Upon a Christmas… even when we’re still watching it in July.

I love you both,

Your mom.