I’m not sure who coined this expression and I’m not far enough down this “mommy road” to speak from a place of wisdom but I’m guessing (based on experience-to-date), this will be the most legit statement ever made about the early parenting years. Perhaps revised to longest, sweetest days.

Every afternoon while my daughter is sleeping, after Soren’s nap time (which has morphed into quiet time), he and I snuggle up for 1 to 2 episodes of Curious George. Today, during this commonplace ritual, I was gripped with reality. This isn’t going to last. Soren is not going to tuck his legs between mine, wrap his arm around my neck, spoon and watch George with me when he’s 40 years old. Well, maybe. If he still lives at home. Because he can’t find a girl that’s good enough. In which case, I’d still probably be cooking for him, cleaning for him and doing his laundry…so never mind.

In all seriousness, it probably won’t last another year. And staring this reality in the face, my heart sinks. Most of the time, too focused on the long grind of the task-of-the-day, I forget that this will be over way too soon. How will I get my Soren snuggles then? Upright, embarrassing (on his end), awkward, regular hugs? We’ve all heard it a million times from old ladies, grandpas, our moms “enjoy this time, it flies”. And then depending on how your day is unraveling, you probably think, “whatever, you old prune. You obviously can’t remember this “precious” time”. But not until you have kids, and honestly not until you apply it to something so precious to your every day life, do you really start to get it. Which, like with most things means, you only kinda get it…until you’re old and looking back on it…probably with regret which makes you said “old prune”. But even I’m not too dumb to realize how awesome these moments with Soren are.

So when impending certainty starts to threaten this ritual, here’s my game plan: when he wants to lay a little further away, I’m going to use rewards. Rewards work in the face of rejection. When rewards starts to fail, I’m going to use slight physical force. When he’s too big for that, probably bribery. That’s all I have so far. Basically, whatever it takes, I’m hanging on for dear life. There are certainly times and things that, in the moment, I may want to fast forward through…tough weeks, tantrums, sleepless nights but I would go through everything in slow “Chinese water torture” motion, if it means I can hang on to cuddles and Curious George just a little longer. It’s weird that when you’re a kid, the countdown to something wonderful like Disneyland or Christmas is agony. So why, if I’m so anxious for a little alone time, is the countdown to more freedom and independence going by way too fast?

Let me tell you about the guy I married. I have known him for 24 years. I liked him and respected him long before I loved him. No one can make me laugh like he does. No one knows me like he does. No one accepts me like he does. He’s my Baby Daddy.

My Dad was not a presence in my life and while my Mom (very special) was more than enough and I’ve never felt that I suffered, I think a present and loving Dad is what every kid deserves. My kids got one. And I can see in the eyes of my kids how crucial my husband is to them. And so while I think you can certainly do without a selfish, abusive or emotionally absent Dad, there is no substitution for a good one, not even a Mommy.

I’m here. Every day. Leading. Guiding. Hugging. Kissing. All day long. He walks in and I become secondary. It never bothers me to be back burnered for their Dad. Their devotion to him says to me, loud and clear, we need both of you. His gentle nature, his purest adoration for our kids. I can never compete with what he brings to their lives. They get to have it all. Not perfect. But always trying and completely in love with both of them. Francie will be a lucky girl if she sees how her Dad treats me and picks someone like him. She will need to pick someone tolerant, patient and flexible like her Daddy. She and I have that in common. And Soren is lucky to have inherited his Dad’s sense of humor and softness and I hope, based on the example being set for him, he will treat his wife with as much love as I’m treated with. Marriage, much less marriage with kids is a three ring circus. The question is, who do you want to be in the ring, taming the wild elephants with? My answer? Paul Svenkerud.

The point is, they’re blessed with an awesome Dad. I don’t always say it but I think it all the time…so my bad. I talk incessantly so with all that talking, I could say it more often. Happy Father’s Day, Baby! We are so lucky to have you.

Some days, the spread of my kid’s age difference and the stages that they’re in respectively, exhausts me and I find it challenging to focus on the gratitude I definitely SHOULD be feeling. I have two healthy, joyful kids. I have the privilege of staying home with them. I have supportive family around me. A lot, A LOT to be grateful for. But I’m human. Like, real human.

While you don’t have to look very far to see circumstances more challenging than your own…even though I know it, even though I don’t want to disappoint God or myself, I actually have to remind myself over and over that the frustrations I’m facing are minuscule. Dwarfed by real challenges. And though in this lifetime, it’s inevitable that I will experience heartbreak at some point, I don’t want that to be the thing to make me finally appreciate how good things are right now. So I have a philosophy to get me through the toughies:

Fake it ’til you make it.

Meaning, talk like a grateful person, even (or especially) if I’m struggling with gratitude, in the hopes that saying what is true and right will turn my ‘tude around.

For example, when Francie is laying across the door of the dishwasher, screaming because I won’t let her impale her eyeball with the fork, while I’m trying to empty it, I say, “I’m so grateful she wants to help me with the dishes”. Or when I want to sleep so bad it hurts and Soren wants to sleep with us, horizontally across the bed with his toe in my rib cage, I say, “he won’t want to sleep with me forever, I’m going to enjoy this now”. Or when the potty-training that I can’t seem to get to stick results in a super-man-sized poop in a pull-up…no wait, I’m never even pretend grateful for that.

And whether I’m saying it to Soren about Francie, Francie about Soren, to a friend, my mom, a total stranger, myself aloud or inside my head for only God’s benefit…often through gritted teeth these days as I deal with behavioral/heart parenting with Soren and never-being-able-to-keep-tabs-on-her parenting with Frances…both of which require more focused attention than God ever gave this lady, I say it. I say I’m grateful and with enough repetition, even on the hardest day, my heart is turned and every word is real.