The other day, I walked into the main bathroom to put my makeup on and there was a piece of paper affixed to the mirror in front of me:
“Why did the cow cross the road?” Jonathan wanted to know.
“To get to the udder side,” he answered himself.
Hey, that’s pretty funny, I thought to myself. Hm. The fact that he took time out of his busy schedule to write me a cheerful note reminds me….
I went to Jonathan’s room—since he was at school—and rummaged around. Finally, I found what I was looking for. It was a multicolored journal with his initial on the front.
When the kids were little, I bought each of them a different book: Adriana’s had flowers, Michael’s a brown puppy, and Jonathan’s his initial.
I wrote a little note to each of them on the first page (making sure to date it) and hid their respective journals underneath their pillows. They all wrote me back and throughout the years, we have (sporadically) kept up this tradition.
I took the journal I had finally discovered on Jonathan’s bookshelf—with a layer of dust on it—and cracked it open. It had been a long time.
I wrote, “2/4/2014: Well, I’m running around trying to get a bunch of stuff done so that I can go to your basketball game at Concrete. Even Grandma is coming. Woot-woot. Here is some candy I bought a few weeks ago already because you were having a craving. I think it might be the wrong kind, but, YOU’RE WELCOME. Love you, Mumsy.“
The way I see it, we have precious time with our kids as it is. Like I said in a post a little ways back, I don’t think people on their deathbed care about not cleaning enough toilets in their lifetime. They care about the relationships they have with family and friends. And, as anyone who has gone through cancer (or any other life-threatening disease, for that matter) knows, we just don’t know when that “deathbed day” will come.
So, what are you still doing here, reading this post? Go buy your kids (or husband) a journal and tell them how much you love them.