This too shall end

So often in parenthood we celebrate the firsts. First steps. First words. First time on two wheel bikes. But we forget to celebrate the 'lasts'. Mostly because we don't know when they will happen. And so my focus is to try to capture the present.

Everyday at 1:15 or 1:30 Wyeth calls me to chat before his nap. And I love it. The kids have always done this. First, of course, it was Seren doing the talking and Wyeth contributed by breathing heavy into the phone. Then she would chat and he would say something like "Hi. Mommy. Trash. Bye."  Since September, Seren hasn't been part of the daily chats. She is at school until 3:30 and misses the 1:30 pm calls. And I miss checking in with her. I miss her voice. She'll call again in the summer on when she is on spring break but it isn't the same. And in two years, or less, Wyeth won't call me in the afternoon either. So while I sometimes miss the calls (due to meetings), and think not much of it. I really do cherish these chats.

Yesterday my cell phone died. I had told Sam that in case he wanted to get in touch. So Wyeth called my office line. I picked up without looking at caller ID and said "Hello, this is Megan." A small voice greeted me.

"What? Why you say that? Mommy?"

"Oh buddy! Hi! How are you?"

"Ok. Why you say it is 'Megan'?"

"Oh, that is my other name, remember?"

I love when my office life collides with my home life. I'm sure my colleagues love the daily calls.(just kidding!) But the calls make me happy- I love to hear a small voice at the other end of the line. And his days are full of adventures of preschool, stories of which trucks he played with, and what mood Daddy is in.

This morning he called me on the way to work to ask if I was still wearing the barette he had placed into my hair last night. I wasn't. He wondered why and offered to put it back into place when I returned. He also suggested that tomorrow I wear a pretty party dress to the office in order to show it to my 'friends'. Ok! My fashion forward kid.

In addition to the daily phone calls which will end, so will the long, drawn out hugs as he falls asleep. He frequently calls me up to his room 2-3 times a night to tell me something. Talk to me about Webbie. Or small dog. Or his car or truck or clock. It gets old. Esp when the clock is reading 9:15 or 9:30 and he still isn't asleep. And sometimes my temper flares a bit in exasperation. But he always ultimately just wants a hug. Or Webbie, the turtle, needs to hug me. I often see his upstretched arms in the siloette of the night light. And my frustration melts away. Ok buddy, ok. And I squeeze away. Knowing, fundamentally, that I'll long for his hugs and his oversharing of stories in a blink of an eye. So I hold him tight.