Three or four times a year I get this deep aching sense of time passing.
As I see my kids grow and inch, listen to their wise words,
notice them needing me less.
I want to grab them and wrap them up and duct tape and savour the moment.
Most often I do not do this. I wallow for a moment
and then move on.
I say promises to myself about how I will spend more quality time,
how we will be more purposeful.
But more often we just move about our day.
I am not saying I do not cherish them.
I just sometimes forget to stay put.
To absorb the hug given
or the plea for my time.
I forget to be present.
Parenting is a