Notice

I lie in bed awake at night worried.  Yes, I know - great use of the countdown of minutes until inevitable death.  But I do.  My daughter is going to be 8 soon - double that, add a couple more years or, and BOOM - she’s outta here.  My son - my little snuggler, is going to be SIX in a couple of days.  Just a few more years and I’m going to have to figure out how boys brains work when they start realizing girls are pretty.  And the baby?  She’s still pooping in those diapers, but really - she’s too old for that.  Too old for diapers.  Too old…

Why it freaks me out so much, I do not know.  Is it because I love it all so much that I’m pre-mourning the loss of it?  The loss of all these precious stages of my kids’ lives?  Maybe it is because I regret so much of it.  I replay things I wish I had done different and times I’ve really messed up, worrying that in my messing up I’ve messed them up to have a messy life.  That’s a lot of mess.  Or perhaps it is just because change is hard.  

I’m a great storyteller, perhaps.  I worry about things that haven’t happened, and probably never will.  I could write a novel with all the stories I tell in my head and storylines I run away with.  And in the end, most of it never happens.

So what to do?  How do I bring my mental energy here?  Perhaps in truly experience right now, moment of regret will diminish and feelings of fullness will increase.  Perhaps as time passes, it will pass with satisfaction and contentment rather than fear.

I’ve been practicing - noticing what it feels like to have my feet planted firmly on the ground.  What my eyes feel like when I go out in the sun.  What sounds the sheets make when I pull them up at the end of the day.  In doing so I go a step more and notice, more fully, my kids.  The way Kainoa smiles when his RC truck starts working again.  The way anela giggles when something makes her happy.  The way Malana looks when she is satisfied with her next sale of a dozen eggs.  And, more simply, the way her hair curls on the left side of her face, the way his cheek dimples just a little, and the way her belly sticks out after a satisfying meal.  

And more - where they are in the moment - to be translated to what they might need.  

But if I’m creating a storyline in my head of what is next, what was wrong, what might happen, or that I’m tired, I might miss it.  And regret it.