It wasn’t the first time I’ve heard it–“Push me to the moon, Momma?”
My arms were full between my purse and my one year old. My body was tired, since we’d just made it home from a late night out spent celebrating the 4th with friends, but the moment I heard those words, I resolved to push my very first baby to the moon.
My six year old is growing up too fast. I couldn’t remember the last time he asked. And it made me sad. The days get so busy, and it’s easy to say no. I’m tired, worn out, and ready for rest, but what if it’s the last time he asks? I know it could have been the last time I heard “Push me to the moon,” so I didn’t want to miss my chance.
I put Gad down, sat my purse on the floor, and I stepped back out on to the porch and watched as Asher skipped back to the swing. The tire swing he got from Naunie and Papa is on display right in the corner of our front yard. The boys have made lots of memories on it.
I walked across the yard and started to push my first baby. I reminisced on the many times I’ve pushed our boys in this spot. Asher had a smile on his face and kept asking me to push him higher. I pushed him as high as I could with what little energy I had left, and he was satisfied. And so was I, I got to push my baby to the moon one more time.
It made my heart happy that I got one more chance. I may get to hear those words from his lips again, or that may have been the last time. I paused long enough to get a quick pic. I didn’t want to forget this moment. On this journey of Motherhood, some of those last times will slip us by, we won’t notice them until we look back, but sometimes we have the chance to soak them up.
I’m doing my best to be present. I’m doing my best to notice those last moments, before they’re gone.
“Push me to the moon, Momma!”