Yesterday was just one of those YAYYYY LIFE days.
Well, I mean, work wasn’t spectacular. The copy machine broke down and everyone was pissy about it and I felt like shaking every one of my co-workers, screaming “it’s just the copy machine! It is not Armageddon! Relax!!!”
But AFTER work? Yayyyy.
First of all, it was a drop-dead gorgeous spring day – the first after a number of days of super uncomfortable heat, humidity and thunderstorms. I picked Em and Oren up from their Baba’s house and, as promised, took them to the local playground. We brought Em’s tricycle along so she could ride around the perimeter of the park and practice her pedaling skills (which, in my humble opinion, are totally AMAZING).
The first thing Emmy always wants to do when we get to the playground is swing on her favorite pink swing. There is only one pink swing among the many blue swings on this playground, which of course makes it extra special and coveted by Emmy. Even if ALL THE OTHER swings are available and someone just happens to be on the pink one, Emmy will wait patiently for her turn on the magical swing (she claims that she is being very kind in letting the other toddler take a turn on HER swing).
So, yesterday, as usual, Em got in HER pink swing and I put Oren in the nothing-to-write-home-about blue swing next to her.
My daughter likes to do this thing where she pretends to kick me in the behind every time she swings forward (I made the mistake of pretending she kicked me in the butt once, causing her to laugh hysterically, and now she wants me to do it ALL THE TIME. Probably not one of my most brilliant mommying moments). I kind of hop out of the way of Em’s swing while faking little scared, high pitched squeals. It MUST make the other parents on the playground question my sanity. Thankfully, the playground was relatively uninhabited yesterday, and I was able to really ham it up for Em and totally make a fool of myself without fear of folks calling the cops.
So I started my crazy ooh-I’ve-been-kicked-in-the-butt charades, when suddenly I HEARD IT.
The sound that makes all moms want to freeze time and just live forever in a moment.
I heard my baby boy’s beautiful belly laugh. And let me tell you, it was AWESOME.
You can bet your sweet bippy that I continued hopping around and making silly noises for the next twenty minutes, trying to evoke as many baby laughs as I possibly could. Em was SO over the whole swinging thing and was SO ready to move on to the slide or the sandbox, but I begged and pleaded with her to stay on the swing so she could continue to kick me and we could continue to make Oren laugh.
Finally, when Oren seemed to be exhausted from laughing, we got off the swings and headed toward the pond, where we like to watch the ducks and fishies swim around. Em rode her tricycle as I walked with Oren strapped to me in his Ergo carrier. As Em was riding, she was singing a little song to herself which I couldn’t really understand but was enjoying nonetheless. Suddenly Em looked up at me and said “Mama, I love you so much. You’re my best friend.”
“Emmy, I love you TOO! You are MY best friend!”
“Mama, you are my BEST FRIEND MAMA. We have a lot of fun.”
“Oh, Em. You are my BEST FRIEND DAUGHTER. And yes, we do have A LOT of fun.”
“I love you. You are my BEST FRIEND, Mama.”
“Thank you, Emmy. Thank you.”
And then she started singing a little song about being best friends.
Seriously? Why don’t kids WARN US five minutes before they are going to act like tiny little angels? I mean, I REALLY wanted to record that moment. I want that moment documented, forever and ever and ever. In ten years, when my daughter thinks I am single-handedly ruining her life, I’d REALLY like to be able to look back on that moment and think about the time she told me I was her best friend. In twenty years, when my little boy is off at college and hasn’t called me in weeks, I REALLY want to be able to remember the first time I made him laugh hysterically.
But isn’t that the truth about life, even in this high-tech age? The best moments CAN’T always be recorded. Sometimes they just have to live in our hearts and in our minds (and in our blogs). And that has to be enough.