On the run.
If I were to have a motto, that would be a strong contender.
Sometimes I feel as if I am constantly on the run. Going here, going there. Doing this, doing that. The never ending pull of a life, a full life, in service to others (those being the children) creates a constant state of on the run. Constant.
And I'm not complaining.
For if it weren't for the busy, I wouldn't savor the not busy so much. Of this, I am absolutely sure.
Now that Katie has graduated from a good 'ol carseat with buckles and straps and 5-point harnesses, she has a little more freedom in her choice of seats in the car, when we are on the run. Having the luxury of a third row has offered me a nice little bargaining chip when it comes to her behavior because "if you want to sit in the waaaaaay back, you gotta be able to handle it."
And handling it means you need to behave. Something rare these days what with all the time-outing going on.
That's just the way it is with 3rd and final children. You spoil them for the first 5 years and then whammo! All of a sudden it's like mommy boot camp time, and I don't mean the kind of boot camp where mommy wakes up at 5am and goes to have her cellulite removed from her behind by a drill sargeant.
That kind of boot camp sounds absolutely relaxing compared to the kind I'm talking about.
The kind that involves back talk. And sitting on steps. And setting a timer. And reminding one not to fiddle or speak while sitting on steps. And then explaining that we do not talk that way to anyone in our family, and while you (I mean, um, she) may think it's funny - it's that kind of thing that will get her into trouble when she starts kindergarten in the fall.
(I speak from personal experience, just ask my mom.)
So yes, being able to sit in the waaaaaay back is an earned privilege. One which has not seen the light of day since December. Give or take. Which means she is in the middle row, right where I can keep an eye (and ear) on her.
If I angle my rear view mirror just right, I can see her rockin' out to some killer tunes too, but don't tell her that.
So there I am, on the go, running this way and that and I glance in that there rear view mirror at my 3rd and final child and I am struck.
I am struck because seemingly overnight her little cheeks have morphed into the graceful lines not of a little girl, but of a young lady. Suddenly, I can see her adult face looking back at me and it scares me to death. It scares me because not only do I realize just how beautiful she is, in this very moment, but I realize that it is all so fleeting - all of it.
And I just want to freeze time.
I want to hang onto this happy, full, on the run life for as long as I possibly can because these are the times, the moments, when I can't see how it could possibly get any better than it already is, right now.
It is just so damn good.