The very minute your baby enters your life you shift into something I refer to as “maintenance mode.” It is an entrance to a never ending treadmill ride where you are constantly running in sync with time.
- Baby wakes up.
- Baby needs changing.
- Baby needs food.
- Baby needs a bath.
- Get baby dressed.
- Put baby in the car seat.
- Take baby out of the car seat.
- Feed baby again.
- Change baby again…
And it just keeps going on and on and on and on. And you coast on maintenance mode driving and rushing forward until you crash in bed for a few minutes before baby wakes again, and it starts all over.
Adding more children that speed on that treadmill gets going faster and faster and doing things seems to be always on a deadline to “hurry up.”
So I am suggesting every once in awhile to push stop on that treadmill and look at your child…right in the eyes.
I heard one mother of triplets used to do it when she would place her babies in their car seats. She took one moment out of her day and looked right in their eyes… and paused out of maintenance mode and forgot about time.
She may have given them a rasberry under their chin, tweeked their nose and said “You’re a snicklefritz,” or sang a song…”I love you, a bushel and a peck, a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck…”
Every once in awhile put a pause in maintenance mode. We all know “IT” has to be done and the treadmill keeps rolling, but you have control of the pause button. And when you stop and look, you are once again reminded why you love being a parent. It’s that baby!
UNDER a tree where the breezes blow,
There is the spot that it’s good to go
With the children bronzed by the Summer sun,
Bubbling with laughter and wholesome fun;
And I gather them round — all the happy clan,
And forget for a while I’m a grizzled old man.
Marjorie, Florence, and fair Lucille,
Freddy and Denny — and then we steal
An hour or two from the clock of life,
The quest of gold and the constant strife,
The clamor and noise of a city day
For the peace and joy of a bit of play.
Pirate stories for boys we tell,
For there is the place to tell them well;
With treasure Islands we build in sand,
And we mark the spot where the pirates land,
And even the place where the gold was hid
By that master of pirates, old Captain Kidd.
Then we leave the pirates and run away
To the wonderful glens where the fairies play;
And under the tree where the breezes are
We summon the fairies with crown and star,
And I tell of the wonderful things they do
When the sun is up and the skies are blue.
And the far off world may call and call,
But I never hear through my little wall
Of innocent youngsters that hem me in.
I finish one tale and a new begin;
And there we sit underneath the tree
Till mother calls all of us in for tea.
Edgar Albert Guest
There was a child
went forth every day.
And the first object he looked upon,
that object he became,
and that object became a part of him for the day,
or a certain part of the day,
or for many years, or
stretching cycles of years.
The early lilacs became a part of this child,
and the grass
and white and red morning glories,
and white and red clover,
and the song of the phoebe-bird,
and the third month lambs,
and the sows pink-faint litter,
and the mare’s foul,
and the cow’s calf…
It makes you think…
will become a part of your child
that will last only today…
or stretch to cycles of years?