Today has been one of those days where my emotions have run all over the place. I have my own two children at home and invited my four-year-old niece to spend the night. Now, anyone who has children can likely relate to the utter chaos and destruction caused by having three children under the age of six in one tiny apartment. I admit, I’ve had a few moments where I longed for a fairy godmother to come rescue me and send in a nanny—but something else happened today. Something that momentarily made me wish I had a dozen children. Something called…nostalgia.
I turned off the television this morning—my brain was no longer able to filter the noise of squealing, laughter, arguing, and Teletubbies—and opted to put on a CD instead. I chose “Return to Pooh Corner,” a collection of songs by Kenny Loggins. I originally bought this CD before my first child was born. When he was a baby, I would rock him to the CD. It made me cry. Then, when my niece was born, I watched her during the days for most of her first year of life. I rocked her to this CD as well. A few years later when my second child was born, she too fell asleep to this music.
Today, as the CD began playing, I watched my son and niece dance together in the living room. They waltzed around on the floor with smiles from ear to ear. My daughter danced, too—with me. I listened to them giggle. I noticed how big they’ve gotten. And then I cried—again. Not tears of sadness, but tears of joy. These beautiful little babies I once held in my arms and rocked are now kids. They all have unique personalities. They all dance to different drums. Their strengths differ, their emotions differ, and watching them—seeing their passions coming out—is the most precious thing I’ve ever witnessed.
My CD is scratched now. Some of the songs do not play like they used to. But I’ll never get rid of the music. Someday I’ll place it in that special trunk I keep my most sentimental mementos in. And when they’re all grown and gone, busy with lives of their own, I just might pop it into the CD player one more time—to remember—to smile—and yes, likely to cry…again.