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I gripe a lot about my kids.  Yes, they drive me crazy. Yes, they get on my nerves.  Yes, I am COMPLETELY nuts by the time everyone is in bed.  Yes, I may become an alcoholic.  BUT.

BUT.  I love my kids.

I am so grateful for my kids.

However, right now, in this particular cycle of parenthood, I do not have a lot of… wistful moments.  A few.  Here and there.

Mostly, I have fighting kids (they ALL fight with each other now…even the ten month old yells back), cranky kids, whiny kids, hungry kids, poopy kids, sad kids, need moooommmmmy kids, that I don’t see the wistful moments.  I am lucky if I remember to thank God each night that I survived another day.

But I do.  Survive that is.

And sometimes, every now and then, I have wistful moments.

Sometimes, I have to make them happen.

Like an unplanned bubble bath with my ten-year old.

Gotta do bubble faces.  And who has a camera in the tub? We do.  Yes, we do.

If we wait for the wistful moments, we could…I have…get too wrapped up in the yuck moments.  The hard, ugly moments of parenting.

We made a little….too many bubbles…

Making a wistful moment is as easy as a hug.  A real hug.

A text. To your teenage son.  Thanking him, for just being him.

Leaving a note on your daughters mirror, telling her how beautiful she is, inside and out.

Blowing my baby girl kisses.

Playing hide and seek.

Leaving a love message in ketchup on your child’s plate.

Planning a date, with your child.

And sometimes, some days, making wistful moments is still hard.  Parenting is hard.

On those days, when you lay your head on your pillow at night, and you feel that you didn’t have any wistful moments, just pray…and thank God that you even had moments with your children.  Even if they were crazy, sweat & tear-stained, crawl on your knees, back aching, floor tantrum, leaky diaper, teething hell, cranky toddler, non-talkative teen, desperate pre-teen, forgetting to eat, did I shower?, poopy swim diaper…in the pool… kind of moments, know, that they are still moments.  To be treasured, somehow, even if it is in the abyss of a glass of wine.

Because this time shall pass.  And although I don’t believe, no I truly know, that I won’t want this time back, I will forever, and ever, treasure my wistful moments, and thank God I survived the rest.

In the meantime, I think I will have another glass of wine, thank you.

Cheers, from the tub!