the rising tide

So.

It's been a bit quiet here for about a week.

That would have something to do with our annual family pilgrimage to Sunset Beach.

We're back and the sand has just about been contained.  Laundry has been washed, folded, and put away; the fridge has been restocked with enough dairy and produce to feed a small army;  suitcases have been put away.   At this point I'm left with wonderful memories to accent the hundreds of pictures and the challenge how best to document Sunset 2012 for my kids to look back on in years to come.

But before I find time to complete that task, I have something more pressing breathing down my neck.  Next week is gonna be a doozy for me:

Monday ~  My big girl goes for her first day of 1st grade.
Wednesday ~  My twins leave me for their first day of (all day) kindergarten.
Friday ~  My baby turns 4.

Gulp.  (Vast amounts of dark chocolate will likely be consumed as a coping strategy)

To help me deal with the coming changes, this week I'm embracing a lesson that I relearned at the beach while building a castle with my baby as the tide rolled in.

No time interacting with a child is wasted ~ especially when it is your own child.  Even though conventional wisdom says that building a castle in the path of the rising tide is an exercise in futility, to the child you build with the moment is eternal.

How do I know?

I know because of the number of times he excitedly looked at me with his sandy, goggle eyed face and said, "Thank you mommy for build castle!"  I know because I got no less than 10 sandy hugs and 20 salty kisses in those ten minutes.  I know because of the look of sheer joy that crossed his face each time we put another handful of wet sand to replace some lapped away by the waves.  And I know because today, over a week later, he still is thanking Jesus for building a castle with Mommy in the water.

This week there will be dishes in the sink, but I'll take the time to play one more round of Candy Land. There will be laundry to fold, but I'll ignore it to read one more Amelia Bedelia book.  There will be dinner to cook, but we'll have pizza or hot dogs instead and I'll race Lightning McQueen against Finn McMissile across the kitchen floor.  There will be floors to vacuum, but I'll use my energy to channel my artistic side and help create another masterpiece on the Light Bright.

The rising tide of life won't cause me to miss moments.

(That is until I forget again and need to be reminded...)