September 17, 2010 – Bubblegum & Band Aids

My kids are little.  They will do nearly anything for a piece of bubblegum.  To an extent which makes me crazy.  The two year old says, “Mommy, me behave piece gubble gum?” and the six year old plots and plans, negotiates and barters for a piece of the chewy fun as well.  It’s nonstop from both of them.  Every.  Single. Day.

And then there’s band aids.  I think my daughter scrapes her legs intentionally so she can wear one.  She asks me if things are ‘bandaidworthy’ (yes, I believe I coined that phrase after too many ‘unworthy’ reasons for a band aid).   We spend so much time with them  hanging outside of the grocery cart, lingering over the decision of which colorful  box to purchase for refills.  My floors are covered with the wrappers of band aids and the paper inserts from each package.  They apply the band aids to their bodies as though it’s an accessory, turned at the right angle, facing upwards, in an area certain to be noticeable by all.

Bubblegum and Band Aids.  Such large parts of my day to day life.  They are the cause of headaches and exhaustion of answering the same questions (no you can’t because you’ll put it on my furniture like you did last time and no that bruise is not bandaidworthy, you will be fine and because they cost money, they are not stickers and it’s minty, you won’t like it, trust me)…  I could go on and on.

……………………………………

And then I look at my friends who have older children.   Children who have long since passed the obsession with bubblegum.  Children who grow, as children do and who don’t care if their  band aids have Dora the Explorer or Hello Kitty on them.   And I remind myself that while I’d love to fool myself into thinking that my babies will always be 6 and 2, I know that before I blink, they will be 16 and 12.   And there will be no one to care about all of these little things and no one to bother me about the worthiness of Dora or the wrappers of gubblegum.

So while it is here, I will cherish it.   Lavishly pass it out.  Look into purchasing gum remover at the store (do you suppose it’s near the band aid aisle?) and reward every little freckle with some Hello Kitty stickiness.

Then I’ll laugh.  Close my eyes and hold the memory.  Take pictures.  And appreciate these moments.  These moments that are here only for today, though I wish would last forever.   Today, I will notice and appreciate them for all they are worth- and it is so very much.

~K