Sunday evening I was rushing about the house, cleaning and doing laundry. Brian was in town, and left this morning, so I was trying to get all his stuff together--laundry, paperwork, etc. My mother-in-law reminded me that the bathroom needed cleaning, so I added that to the list. Jacelyn was home with me, following me around, asking me questions, moving things around, knocking things down. I guiltily confess to being less than patient with her, over all. At one point I was angrily scrubbing the shower, singing along with music from the shower radio. The music suddenly stopped, and I peered over the doors to see Jacelyn, perched precariously on the toilet tank, turning the shower radio off. I slid the door open, and in an entirely impatient, un-motherly manner said, "What, baby?!?"as I helped her down. She looked at me, sighed, and said, "I just love you, mommy, that's all. I just love you".
In that one moment I was reminded of what is important. That may sound hokey, but here is what I mean: the tub can be cleaned another day. Laundry can wait - it will still be dirty tomorrow. My daughter will only feel the need to risk life and limb to turn down music to inform me that she loves me for probably a little while longer. Ten years from now (when she is 13 - yikes!) I will probably think longingly of that moment. So I stopped what I was doing (much to the chagrin of my mother-in-law) and played. With abandon. So that is my directive for the day: find someone busy, someone unhappy, just someone, and remind them of what's important. Give them an "I just love/respect/appreciate/really like you"moment.
I just love you, that's all.