“My perspective is still that you have “little” kids! In my mind, everyone else’s kids freeze in aging!” This is the comment that my friend Tracey, and fellow slicer left on my post from yesterday. When Tracey and I were reading teacher roommates, eleven years ago, my kids were two, one, and unborn. Now my girls are thirteen, eleven, and eight. They have not frozen in age, something that I try not to get too sad about. It was Tracey who always told me, every new age gets better and better.
This past weekend, as I sat through Wren’s ballet competition “gala”, a glorified title for dance awards (everything is fancier in ballet), I will admit that I was not completely present. There were a few minutes, where I went elsewhere. A distracted moment caused by what caught my eye in the seat diagonally to the left. A young girl, perhaps two or three years old, was sitting on her mom’s lap. She had been quiet during the entire gala. I hadn’t even noticed her until, towards the end of the ceremony. She had climbed so that she was kneeling on her mom’s lap, facing her. Her small arms were wrapped around her mom’s neck and her face so close, her mom was forced to tilt her head back, as if she was looking at the ceiling. The look at her daughter’s face was pure adoration and the mom’s face told me that she was also soaking up this moment. For a second, I could feel my own children’s arms wrapped around me neck, their chubby cheeks pressed so close to my own. I miss those moments when they didn’t feel like they could ever get close enough, like they would never let go.
What I wouldn’t give to have one of those moments again, ambushed by their love.
Where In the World Am I Writing From: Today, I am writing from an actual COMPUTER during a stolen moment in our school library. This quick draft will get a reread when I get home later tonight before I decide, good enough, and hit publish!
Where There Is Joy 
This slice will make me think of you every time Elena climbs on me tomorrow, Jessica. How bittersweet!
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Mmm… ambushed by their love. Great line. I can absolutely see that little one, holding her mother’s face. I can almost feel it. Sigh.
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Oh, you captured this moment so beautifully, with all the emotion coming through. This line is especially resonant for me, “I miss those moments when they didn’t feel like they could ever get close enough, like they would never let go.” Isn’t it funny how you simultaneously love who they are and who they’re becoming, but also miss who they were? The days you describe are so long ago for me (my own children are 32, 30 and 28!).
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This sounds like what I could have written about a son with his dad in church last week. This line exactly- her mom was forced to tilt her head back- was the similar scene with the dad. So sweet! Your girls will find other ways to ambush you with love!
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As Tracey said, the ambushes will keep changing, but the love is there. I had a moment like this last night on the airport shuttle watching a dad pull his two daughters into his lap to save space. I almost said something about blinking and having them grow. Maybe I’ll write the slice—
You’ve cherished the moments.
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You packed a lot into this stolen-moment slice. I loved this line: “I could feel my own children’s arms wrapped around my neck, their chubby cheeks pressed so close to my own. ” It’s a kind of closeness you don’t get from those almost-adults or full adults…though occasionally, during a quick hug these days, I form a picture of the younger version just for fun. We can do that if we close our eyes.
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What an amazing description of this mother and daughter interaction. I can picture it so clearly.
Also, I’m loving reading where you’re slicing from. I remember it years ago being a lot from your girls bedroom floors.
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There is definitely something sweet and tender about the ambush from the little ones but, as Tracey and Melanie point out, when the adult ambushes come, in hugs, words, or actions it’s just as sweet. Let’s be glad we have and hold those cheek to cheek moments.
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You post reminds me of how moved we can be simply by observing, even second-hand through your post. There is so much power in the details of your description – the child kneeling on her mother’s lap, adoring with with her whole body. Indeed it’s hard not feel wistful along with you, to be “ambushed” by our children’s affection.
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Oh those baby hugs!
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This resonates with me so much! Even though you know how fast it all goes, it’s still so hard to believe how the years fly by. My 12yo still ambushes me with hugs sometimes, but not nearly enough!
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I love this post. I’m sad that none of my kids ever ambushed me in this way, but it was decades ago so possibly I’ve forgotten the moments. Such a precious image you’ve created.
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I could totally see the mom and her daughter. I am always in awe when I see that eat-you-up-can’t-get-enough love between my sister and her kids or my friends and their little ones. It’s something I’m most looking forward to if I’m lucky enough to be a mom one day 🥹
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