The soundtrack and scenery of motherhood is always in our ears, it's all we can see. It will never cease. This morning, I looked around and saw two growing boys. Baseball bats have replaced pacifiers. Equipment bags have replaced the diaper carry-all. Gatorade bottles have replaced sippy cups. And in that never-ending soundtrack, the click-clack of cleats on pavement have replaced the hum of stroller wheels across the park.
The house smells like Irish Spring body wash instead of baby powder. The washing machine churns with endless varieties of sports uniforms instead of onesies. The pitter-patter of tiny feet on tile replaced by the thump of two wrestling boys. Sports Center replaces Baby Einstein. And time marches on.
It can change. All of it can change, except for one thing. Just this one. May it always be, that after every ball hit, after every pitch thrown, after every out made, after every serve returned, after every ace spiked, after every base stolen, after every "A" earned, after every award achieved, after every good deed done, may my boys always look for me. May their eyes continue to search for me in the crowd, where I will always be, so that we can say, in our silent soundtrack that no one else can hear, and so that we can show through our silent exchange that no one else can see,
"Mama, did you see that?"
"Yes baby, I did. And I am so proud."
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