There are some days when I really wish my kids had cell phones. They’re 1 and 4, so it’s a rather ridiculous thing to wish for. But there are just times when I’m at work and I want to connect with them mid-day, even with a simple text to tell them that no matter what I’m doing or where I am, I’m always thinking of them. I want to tell them I love them, and I want to find out about their day.
Instead, I have taken to emailing them. That’s right, I set up email addresses for my children who cannot yet read, write, or use a computer. Then, on my lunch (or pumping breaks!), I email them. The purpose is kind of two-fold: it allows me to feel “connected” to my guys during the day. Think of it as therapy for the work-outside-the-home-mom. But I also hope that one day, when they CAN read, they’ll appreciate how nutty their mom was about them. Or they’ll at least appreciate some stories about their antics – kind of like an email journal of their life.
Here are a couple of my emails:
Dear M,
This morning started out as another one of “those” mornings – the mornings you are all too familiar with, and the ones I’m trying desperately to change. The ones where I’m rushing around like a maniac, hurrying you along – a real “get-ready-to-go, no-we-don’t-have-time-to-color, come-on, we’re-going-to-be-late, let’s-go-NOW” kind of morning. đ You still didn’t have your jacket on, despite the fact I asked you at least 55 times. I walked into the kitchen to find you looking out the sliding glass door. You looked at me sweetly, not at all phased by my frustration or rising stress level. And you said to me, with genuine amazement and a little bit of pride, “Mommy, look! I found the moon!” And sure enough, you had. By this point, I was late for work, and I was worried about you missing your school bus. But the look of sheer joy on your face stopped me in my tracks. In that moment, everything could wait – your bus, my job, and as cheesy as it sounds – the world. I kneeled down with you to see things from your perspective. Wow. The moon, which we usually see at night, was there – right in front of us! “Yes, buddy, you sure did find the moon. What a wonderful day this is starting out to be.”
So thanks, kiddo. Thank you for forcing me to sometimes stop and appreciate the little things, like “finding” the moon.
Love forever and ever,
Mommy
PS – Where on earth did you learn to pee outside? I caught you doing it the other day, in the middle of our backyard, and Daddy insists he didn’t teach you that. But I wonder…
And for my youngest:
Dear N,
Just a note to let you know I’m missing your big, contagious smile and those four adorable chiclet teeth of yours today. Do you know the best part of my day, hands down, is picking you guys up at day care? Your brother usually runs to me for a hug and yells “Mommy!” … but you can’t do that yet. Your lack of words doesn’t hold you back from expressing yourself, though. The minute you spot me, your face lights up and you start bouncing up and down, so much that I’m sometimes afraid you’ll topple yourself right over. But it’s adorable and it makes me feel lucky to have such a happy, animated little man. I know in time you’ll develop words, but I hope your enthusiasm for life (and me!) never dwindles. It’s such a wonderful trait.
Love forever and ever,
Mommy
PS – I know I played it cool last night when my rendition of “You Are My Sunshine” didn’t soothe you. But really.. would it be so hard to at least pretend that my singing had SOME calming effect? Yeah, yeah, I know you’re cutting teeth and all that. But really. You do know I made Chamber Singers in high school, right? Give me some credit, kid. đ
Will my boys be curious to read these when they’re older? I hope so. If not, I’ve always got something to add to their baby books.