Vertigo

by Christa and Brian Flannery

Fellow moms, ever get vertigo? That dizzy, sudden fear of heights?

You look at these small, mini-humans. You're in charge of them. You're responsible for them. You're usually so darn busy keeping up with them that you forget to reflect on the sensation that you are skirting the edge of a cliff.

Their size contributes to the illusion. It's easy to imagine they will remain so cute and dependent.

What if they grow up? What if you stop to catch your breath when they finally free up your day by starting school? You might turn around to find your child is gone, replaced by another adult, who has become your new peer.

Has it hit you yet? A little spinning nausea?

Don't look down. Life is fleeting. We're racing the clock with kids in tow. Why don't they grow up and do some of this on their own? These little lives that we chase and feed and wipe their noses and bottoms -- they have such a short tale of history behind them and yet so many more years ahead. Were we ever that way? Someday will we be like our parents are now? Will our children have children? Will this baby hold babies like I hold him?

Sometimes the house stays messy. Sometimes Mom takes a nap while they play, roaming free in the mostly baby-proof house. Sometimes she wonders how it's possible to love these little people more today than yesterday but finds this is the case anyway. And sometimes she savors the moments that may never come back.

But then the plunge and the gasp as our cold-water-busy-life takes our breath away again. Time, time, time. Time to get your shoes on, put that down, where's your jacket, everyone in the car! Hurry, stop crying, don't hit, say sorry, can I have a hug? Who's hungry, who's stinky, who's slowly sneaking up on me and Father Time?

What if my short mom span will be one of my most important? Then the dizziness is not so bad. All the pressure and fresh riskiness of standing so close to the edge melts in welcome gratitude when a little hand wraps my finger and an everplayful face smiles, "come on".

If a redeemed spirit is immortal
and nothing from this world will remain
except these little toddling souls,
what a treat to have some time
to get to know them before we go
and all meet at last at home.