Motherhood is this strange dichotomy.
A constant push-and-pull between the needs of the present and the desires of the future. For me, the needs of the present shout and cry and wave their petulant fists: "I need to do the dishes (because we are completely out)! I need to pack up the house! I need to take a shower! I need to get some SLEEEEEP!" The shouting is usually when she is refusing naps, or not going to sleep at bedtime. (The crying occurs in the 3am hour.)
But at the same time, my knowledge of the desires of the future are like little whispers: "The dishes can wait. She's only small for so long. You'll miss this some day. Look at her little fingers holding onto your shirt. Listen to her little breaths. She won't let you do this when she's 12, or 16, or 25. Embrace it now."
So I hold her a little longer tonight. I watch her little chest rise and fall, watch her eyelids shudder as she begins a night of dreams. I know this time is so short. Tonight, I think of the future, and leave the dishes for later.
