Mumbles was away on a work trip last week so I was solo parenting — doing drop off and pick up from daycare, squeezing a work day in between, making meals, and caring for Declan without his very helpful hands to lighten the load.  On the phone with him one evening, I observed (slash complained) that it was hard to enjoy parenting like this. I felt I was merely surviving and going through the motions (wake, feed baby, dress baby, dress self, make lunches, feed and play with dog, drive to daycare, drive to work, work, eat, work, drive to daycare, drive home, play with baby and dog, feed baby, bathe baby, put baby to bed, pray he stays asleep so I can eat and go to bed, then pray he doesn’t wake until morning and maybe long enough that I can squeeze in a shower) instead of relishing the the quality one-on-one time together, the cuddles, the funny faces, the fast crawling, the mouth-full-of-food smiles, splashing during bath time and general baby goodness.

In the middle of my weary week, I came across this poem in my Facebook newsfeed. It’s a sad, makes-you-teary reminder to cherish the moments because there is, indeed, a last time for everything.

What are you reading these days? 

Poem image via Belle Bébés