The Moments that Matter the Most

There is something that guts me at the most random times as a Mother of young children.  It is the answer to the question of, "Will they remember the moments that I treasure so much?"  As parents we are continually making memories, of-course because that's what families should be doing but we also do it with a vain hope that our children will remember them fully. That they will recall their childhood in some sort of a running commentary video with soft lighting and sepia tones.  Layer upon layer of flashing white smiles and running with laughter in fields of heather whilst hair is blowing perfectly in the wind.

The reality is a heart puncturing no, this is not how they will remember their childhoods.  Mostly because that only happens in commercials but also because my kids only just reaching the ages of memory retaining. My littlest is not even quite there yet, only turning four in the next 5 weeks.  This thought more than slightly breaks my heart.

This is one of the main reasons that I write these memories down.  Mostly for them, but also for me too.  Because even my memory will only retain bits and pieces.  When the days are long and emotionally treacherous...well, those are the days I hope they don't remember.  For those are the days I wonder and obsess and torture myself as if I've impaled their innocent souls or left scars on their hearts that will never heal.  But then there are these days...well this was a day I hope we will all remember for many years to come.

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"I think today is a farm kind of day."  I looked up at the beautiful bright blue sky of September enjoying the tinge of the cool autumn breeze as Fin walked beside me his 3 year old hand tucked into mine and his brother by his side.  They were all dapper little men in their navy school uniforms, large backpacks wrangled on their little boy backs.

"Yeah! Farm!"  Finley cried with excitement.  Child of mine has his Mother's love for farms.

Adrian protested.

"How about Andrew's Farm guys?"  We hadn't visited this particular farm in over a year and knowing my eldest is more fond of new adventures he agreed with more enthusiasm.

Then all of a sudden he halted in mid-step.

"Stop!  We need to jump over the rest of the cracks!" He directed.

 Adrian reached for his brother's hand and we were all linked in a line of three.

We all jumped over the crack at once.

And continued on....

1,2,3,4,5,6!

We paused at the quiet side street as I asked if we were safe to cross.  Seeing all clear we galloped across, our hands still linked.

And I thought...

This is a moment to treasure.

This is all that matters.

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As we pulled up to Andrew's Scenic Acres, Finley asked, "Have we been here before?"

Adrian declared, "I remember this place!  Remember we had apples with caramel?"

We have and I do, I responded.

I had forgotten how much I loved it here.  Low key, quiet, beautiful with an old school playground that the boys absolutely loved.  Made of wood and metal with 2 large poles and a rope attached at the top, a soccer sized ball attached at the end.  The children whip the ball around and around and around, laughing when the ball bonks them on the noggin.  Because eventually, with my boys, this happens all too often.  There are goats and chickens, sheep and ducks.  Haybales to climb, run along and jump in, beautiful wild gardens of gigantic sunflowers and other colourful flowers.  Pick your own pumpkins and raspberries and a pathway that leads to the Haunted Forest.

We enter the market and my sons' beeline it for the goodies.  Of-course.  Until they notice the humongous caramel apples in all their gooey glory by the register.

I indulge them with the apples and myself with a chocolate pecan tart.

We find a picnic table in the sun, for the shade was a bit chilly.  I watch the boys savour each bite of caramel and inwardly shrug at the fact that that is probably all they will eat.  But they bite into the apple and as they do Adrian says, "Thank you Mummy." His pale yet vibrant beautiful blue eyes squint at me across the picnic table and he smiles a sweet smile.

"Oh honey.  You're so welcome.  Thank you for being so appreciative.  That means a lot to me."

When you wonder if you're doing okay as a parent and that happens, you know that yes, yes I just might be doing alright.

And when he slllowwllly and dramatically falls off the picnic table bench to get away from a bee that has taken an obsessive liking to his caramel apple and you all break up into unrelenting giggles, you think once again...

These are the moments to treasure.

They are the only moments that matter.

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"I liked the Haunted Forest the best!"

"My favourite was the Haunted Forest too!"

They are belted back into the truck hours after farm fun with another treat in hand chattering excitedly about their day.  The late afternoon sun dapples through the trees that line the driveway as we make our way toward the main road.

"I had sooo much fun with you guys today."

"Me too!"  "Me too!"

I press the round button on the console to play some music.  The CD of choice was Blue Rodeo's Greatest Hits.

As I drive I hear the boys little voices sing along, "You don't know what it's like...no you don't know what it's li-ike...."

A sudden tingle pinches my nose and tears spring to my eyes as the next words make their way through the speakers...

"to love somebody...to love somebody...the way I lo-ve you..."

I watch them in the rear view mirror, happy faces, hands clutching cookies, thinking that, no, they don't know what it's like to love them like I do.

Not yet anyway.

Cornstalk love

Hay bale tag

Ahhhh...the Haunted Forest was suuuuper spoooooky.
Not for them though.  Brave little guys.