Midnight Tea Party

When did my 5 year old little girl decide that drinking a hot cup of tea is the only thing that will soothe her to sleep on a restless night? Did I unintentionally give her that idea? All I know is that it's true. A night will come when her tearful, overly- sleepy self will just not be consoled unless Mommy whisks her down stairs, sits her on the counter, fires up the kettle, and pulls out the tea and honey.

Really, it's sweet. I'm charmed by this midnight tea party. But often, I'm more annoyed than anything. Often times, the charm doesn't come til after she's back in bed, and I realize what a precious memory we've made together. Why do I feel like I'm entitled to "clocking out" when I put my children to bed? Why is it such a nuisance to me when sleep doesn't come easily to them? Why can't I in that moment transport myself to 20 years from now, and how I'll long for these days again? It's hard. I want to be the mommy that is quick to comfort and soothe, and not easily irritated or bothered that "my time" is being interrupted. She'll probably always remember having short and quaint little tea parties at night with me, but hopefully she'll forget about the harsh tones that sometimes accompany them.

Mostly, I enjoy it. But mostly I'm also convicted by it. These are the days that matter. Childhood is so fleeting, and the memories and attitudes and time I take to deepen those moments with my children are eternal and impacting. One night of no "me time" is like dust. Will I remember the laundry I folded alone at night, or the sweet moments I shared with my little ones sipping tea and snuggling? I know the answer, and I want to remember the answer at the moment I need it. God has blessed me with an amazing job of being a mother, and I want every moment to count.