Will You Miss This?
For years, when one of my little ones does something particularly annoying– like crashing a full bottle of balsamic vinegar all over the kitchen floor (Who: 15-month-old Yonatan, When: this past Friday) we Weisbergs always, always, always do the same thing…
We launch into the chorus from a Country-Western song about a mother of young children called (you JewishMOM.com oldtimers might remember) “You’re Gonna Miss this” by Trace Adkins.
Here’s the lyrics:
“There’s a plumber working on the water heater
Dog’s barking, phone’s ringing
One kid’s crying, one kid’s screaming
She keeps apologizing
He says “They don’t bother me
I’ve got two babies of my own
One’s thirty six, one’s twenty three
Huh, it’s hard to believe, but
“You’re gonna miss this
You’re gonna want this back
You’re gonna wish these days hadn’t gone by so fast
These are some good times
So take a good look around
You may not know it now
But you’re gonna miss this”
For about a year, though, one of my big girls and I have an inside joke. When one of my little ones does something particularly annoying, like scribble all over the living-room floor with a blue magic marker (Who: Yonatan, again, When: Yesterday afternoon), then we start crooning:
“You’re gonna miss this.”
To which I respond, “Actually I won’t.”
“You’re gonna want this back.”
To which I add, “No, actually I’m not going to…”
But this past Saturday night, when my kids were fighting like cats and dogs over boys coming into the girls room and visa versa, I turned to that same daughter and asked, “Seriously, what do you think? When I’m an old lady and all the kids are out of the house, will I miss all this?”
My daughter was silent for a moment and then said, “You will miss it, Eema. But you won’t want it back.”
Yesterday, I was heading home from the playground, like always. Yonatan in the stroller, 3-year-old Yaakov piggy-backing on the basket, 5-year-old Tsoofy at my side.
And then I saw a dignified 70-something woman with a matronly sheitl walking towards us. She looked at me and then at my crowd, and then her face lit up with the HUGEST smile.
And I imagined a conversation I would like to have with that grandmother…
“Do you miss it?”
“Oh yeees, very much.”
“Do you want it back?”
“Oh no, not at all. I’m too old for that!”
But the twinkle in her eye, I imagined, told a different story.