This week I got to experience something I missed with my own children. See, I had to work when the kids were little. I think I only took a couple months off when my daughter was born. So all those things parents are supposed to be there for, all the milestones one should be committing to memory with pictures and videos and phone calls to everyone on the planet, well, they just somehow got missed because someone else was there when it happened. I got the news via short conversations or little notes, both easily forgotten and lost in the struggle to survive.
On Monday I watched a little boy take his first walk across the kitchen of his house. It was the most amazing thing to watch. He'd take a few steps and stop, bend his knees a bit, straighten up and walk again. The closer he to to the other side of the room and me, the bigger his smile became, until he finally fell into my arms laughing at how brave he thought he was. I don't know who was prouder at that moment; Nicco for doing something he didn't even know he could do, or me for the days of work that went into convincing him that he didn't need me to get from point A to point B.
When I told his mom she got a look on her face, one that I felt all the way into my heart. She missed something so very important because she was doing something that was also important. It's those times when your heart stops for a moment and squeezes so tight and the fear of missing things becomes big. So big. And then you make a choice, one that has to be made over and over and over again. There's no right answer, there's no wrong answer. But I'm so grateful for the chance to experience some of the moments I missed the first time around, and these moments remind me to pay attention now, because let's face it, my kids continue to do absolutely amazing things and I have the time now to watch and appreciate them properly.