"Let's go get Daddy!!", I said in my happiest, most sing-songy tone as I piled my two screaming, cranky, napless children into the car. The joys of being a single car family, right?
As annoying as it it to have to wrangle my kids to the car, when I should be cooking dinner, all because I had one or another appointment to go during the day, I really don't mind driving around with my kids. There's just something about the thought of them being strapped, buckled, and unable to touch each other that puts a little spring in my step.
Plus, it is usually in the car when Elliot and Evie say the funniest things. Or want to have serious, thought provoking discussions (think simple here...they are 5 and 2 after all). Or where I have some kind of epiphany as I relish the tiny snores coming from the back seat after they've both fallen asleep.
This particular Tuesday there wasn't anything particularly funny, or thought provoking. There wasn't an epiphany either. At least not really.
There was a song though. And some tears. Mine, not theirs.
I'm sure most of you have heard the song "You're Gonna Miss This" by Trace Adkins. I've heard it too. But for whatever reason, this time around it took all of 2.8 seconds and a quick glance in the rear view mirror before the flood gates opened.
The screaming, fighting, talking back, and mess making from earlier in the day all suddenly melted away. All I could see then was my cute little Princess and my sweet handsome boy sitting quietly in the back seat.
He's right! Trace Adkins is right! I AM going to miss this. I AM going to want this back. And you better believe I'm going to wish these days hadn't gone by so fast.
So why can I never seem to remember that? When I get out of my ten minute shower to find every book we own on the floor, my two year old screaming because she's somehow been locked in her bedroom and my five year old painting with red finger nail polish on the bathroom counter why do I feel the sudden urge to rip every hair out of my head. Or to at least curl up in the fetal position, suck my thumb, and cry for my mommy. Where the heck is Trace? Shouldn't he be there warning me of the emptiness I'll feel when my kids are grown with families of their own?
I wonder if I could hire him to follow me around and sing that song all day. Doubt it. Not for what I could afford.
Besides, I bet my kids' antics just might make him want to curl up in the fetal position too.
