What you miss when it is gone.

This past weekend I was with three of my Other Mothers at a house by Lake Michigan where we could just enjoy each other. All the kids were safe and with people that loved them; we were able to be together. 

At one point we were talking about the kids when they were young. Going to the grocery store. All the hats and mittens and boots. The judgemental old ladies.  There was agreement that they wouldn't go back. But I would. In a heartbeat. 

What a difference a few seconds makes. 

I'd take the Velcro baby who wailed when she was put in her seat so I could shower--the fastest shower in whole world. 

I'd take the five year old who embarrassed the cashier and me at Joann's when she explained what divorce was and how it affected her. 

I'd take the snarky teenager who was embarrassed to be seen with me in my gardening clothes even if we were just going to the garden center at Home Depot. 

Perspective. 

Think about this, friends, when you wish this age or stage was over. 

I hope I don't turn into that old lady at the grocery store who says that you'll miss this when it's gone as you try to put coats or mittens on screaming toddlers. 

If I do, you know why.