Robin’s Chicks: Where’s My Remote Control For Life?

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Sunday morning I woke up when I heard my bedroom door creak open. My husband wasn’t in the bed, which was no surprise. He’s a morning person, and I’m a night owl, which worked out for everyone when our kids were babies and not sleeping through the night. I would take the night shift but when 4 am rolled around, Zeb was on duty. We’ve fallen into the same routine as our children have gotten a little older, which means that on the weekend, my husband lets me sleep late and he feeds the kids breakfast.

I wasn’t surprised to see my door swinging open on what seemed like it’s own accord. Whoever opened the door was so short her head wasn’t even above the edge of my bed.

“Who is it?” I called.

“MOMMY!” My two-year-old, Sadie, came bounding into my bedroom, her bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor.

I leaned over the side of my bed and scooped her squirmy, squishy body into my arms and pulled her close.

“Hi Mommy! What you doing in here?” She asked.

I answered her by pulling her shirt up and blowing on her belly until she squealed with laughter. We talked and sang a few songs. She pretended to sleep on my pillow and shushed me when I continued to talk to her.

“Quiet Mommy! I sweepin’!” She scolded.

My husband stuck his head in the doorway and after seeing that I was awake, took a running leap onto the bed. Sadie and I both squealed. The bed skidded a few inches across the floor as he landed. As our numbers grew, we became louder and after a few minutes of rough-housing with her Daddy, Sadie’s squeals summoned her sisters from the other side of the house.

Aubrey and Emma stood beside the bed and watched as Sadie flew, airplane-style, on my feet. I gave Sadie a crash landing on her daddy’s stomach then turned to pull the big girls on to the bed. We squished together like sardines and talked about the day ahead of us– a covered dish luncheon at church with a birthday party in the afternoon complete with a little pre-Easter egg hunt.

I was struck with the thought, while lying on my bed with the most precious people in my life within arms reach, that it would not always be this way. At some point, my attempts at snuggling and playful tickling will be met with tossed hair and rolling eyes. Eventually, my children will leave home. No one will open my bedroom door while I’m sleeping just to see what I’m doing. No one will beg me to make a tent in the bed with my sheets. Eventually, Zeb might even stop flying across the room like Superman, but I hope not.

Why is it that some parts of our lives seem to speed by and some parts drag on and on and on? I would like a remote control for life. There are parts I’d like to see again, and parts I’d like to fast-forward through. When I was a teenager I used to wish I could press pause on life so I could crawl back into bed every morning for a few more hours of sleep.

Now I would like to fast-forward through doing the laundry, packing my family to go anywhere and waiting in doctor’s offices. I would like to skip over stomach viruses and hissy fits at check out lines. And I would like to replay scenes like last Sunday morning over and over again. I would like to put this time of my life in slow motion, to make sure I don’t miss a single giggle, snuggle or anyone flying through the air with a single bound.

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Chuck Briese, Oak Ridge Now

[avatar user="cbriese" size="thumbnail" align="left"] Chuck Briese has been a resident of South Montgomery County since 1988. He and his lovely and patient wife, Leslie, have six sons, with only one left to finish high school. Chuck has been a Cub Scout leader, a Little League baseball coach, a church youth leader, and a general troublemaker over the course of the past 25 years. He is obsessed with his lawn, and likes restaurants that serve food that fills up the plate. He has a tendency to tilt at windmills, which may explain why he started Oak Ridge Now.

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