There's a phrase I hear so often that I don't even think about it anymore.
"Mom..."
Usually followed by...
"Can I tell you something?"
The funny part is, I almost always know it's coming before the sentence even starts.
And if I'm being completely honest...
Sometimes I answer while stirring dinner.
Sometimes while searching for the TV remote that's mysteriously disappeared again.
Sometimes while trying to remember who needed help with homework, who was supposed to be brushing their teeth, and why someone is yelling from the other end of the house.
Because that's what life looks like right now.
Busy.
Beautiful.
Wonderfully loud.
There are tiny shoes by the front door.
Blankets that somehow migrate to every room in the house.
The TV remote is missing again.
The dogs are barking because a leaf had the audacity to blow across the yard.
Someone is laughing.
Someone is crying.
Someone is telling on their sibling.
Someone else is absolutely convinced they are starving, despite eating fifteen minutes ago.
And somewhere in the middle of all that...
Someone is asking,
"Can I tell you something?"
There are nights when bedtime feels like an Olympic event.
One more drink.
One more hug.
One more bathroom trip.
One more story.
One more question.
And then, after I finally think everyone is settled...
Little footsteps.
Again.
"Gooooooo to bed!"
If you've ever had kids, you probably smiled reading that.
Because you know.
Some days I catch myself wishing the house would stay clean for more than five minutes.
That everyone could remember where they left their shoes.
That the TV remote would stop disappearing.
That there wasn't always one more bathroom trip, one more drink of water, or one more very important story that absolutely couldn't wait until morning.
But then I stop.
Because one day...
The shoes won't be by the door anymore.
The blanket forts won't take over the living room.
The cousins won't all pile together for movie night.
Nobody will ask me to take the bad dreams out before bed.
The house will get quieter.
And I have a feeling...
I'll miss the noise more than I ever imagined.
I'll miss hearing "Mom" every five minutes.
I'll miss finding D&D dice in places they absolutely shouldn't be.
I'll miss the barking.
The interruptions.
The endless questions.
Even the bedtime negotiations.
Because those little things...
The ones that sometimes make us sigh in the moment...
Are quietly becoming the memories we'll treasure the most.
I've realized something as our family grows.
Life isn't made up of one or two unforgettable moments.
It's made up of thousands of tiny ones.
A hug in the hallway.
A joke at the dinner table.
A child reaching for your hand without thinking.
The sound of everyone laughing at the same time.
Those are the moments that build a life.
Not the big milestones.
The ordinary ones.
So these days, I'm trying to pause a little more.
To really listen when someone says,
"Can I tell you something?"
To soak in the laughter.
To stay for one more story.
To hold on to the little moments that are so easy to overlook.
Because one day...
The house will be quiet.
And I think I'll spend the rest of my life wishing I could hear just one more,
"Mom..."
Until then...
I'll answer one more question.
Give one more hug.
Listen to one more story.
And treasure every wonderfully ordinary moment in between.
Until next time, there's always another chair by the fire waiting for you.
— Cara
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