Let Summer be Playfilled

There’s a sweetness to childhood. An unmistakable innocence that lingers like a sweet fragrance through the thick summertime air that, as adults, you can’t really ever know again but I think forever long deeply for. That unquenched giggle because no one has yet said it sounds funny. That unadulterated way you can wiggle into a dance move without judgement. Oh we all knew it at some point, but life pulls you far away from it as the gray hairs come.

I watch these littles play and a part of me feels so alive again, so unhindered to dream those dreams and fearlessly play. But then there’s bills to pay, that darn grocery store to get to and what the heck is up with the laundry basket? I swear things enter it only to multiply exponentially. You play wildly carefree for a time and then life happens. And then you’re in charge of creating the environment that the next generation can play in.

Which is why fairy houses are dotting up in my backyard. Why we spent two and a half weeks building the contents of those 37 boxes CedarWorks dropped off on our front lawn. A play land. Which by the way, more on that incredibly awesome playset later. All this outdoor fun, for the wildly extravagant innocence of childhood. The sweet time in life they get to just play. Clearly they could just pick up sticks and kick some rocks around. That’s fine too. You don’t need play land. But I think my heart loves creating, inside and out. So play land, well it’s happening.

But I had a conversation with my sweet Cade, all 5 years old and feisty now and it hit me to my core. Sometimes we need those in our lives in our mommahood journeys. I was reading to him on the couch. One of those rare moments I had stopped “adulting” during the fleeting naptime minutes (Aubrey, pull it together!) and decided to spend those precious moments with Cade and Kai rather than on a list of to-dos. I was feeling pretty good about myself. Check the “awesome mom” category off my list for the day.

We were cuddling on the couch and reading. A forever favorite activity of mine because you can linger in the sweetness of their childhood, conversations start, they ask me questions and I can briefly pretend they’re still my little toddlers. It was in these precious moments when Cade turned to me, mid book, mid “mom is feeling pretty good about her momming ability” and said, “Mom. When is miss Stephanie coming?” And I said, “oh not today bud, but tomorrow. Why are you hoping miss Stephanie is coming today?” And he replied, “Because she plays with me.”

Bah.

Right to the heart. He was right. When was the last time I actually played. I literally sat their thinking about it. Now I’ve been all about creating play land in our backyard. Gluing sticks together to make imaginative wonderlands. I’ve been creating when all the while, they’re just wanting their momma to play with them. To be goofy. To chase them and tickle them and be present. Play cars. Build a train track. Oh sweet Cade, how you teach my heart little boy.

Isn’t that the momma life? We all miss the mark at times, I’m not trying to belittle myself, I do have a 5 month old so it’s a teeny bit tricky at the moment. BUT it did get me thinking.

We exist in a culture of doing when really our kiddos are craving our be-ing.

We are conditioned to do so much for our kids as our ultimate expression of our love for them when all they really crave is our presence. AND mommas, this isn’t you “sitting on the park bench, phone in hand occasionally talking to them” present (guilty as charged at times). This is down in the dirt of kidhood being silly, being intentional, being there. They want us to play with them.

Maybe sign your littles up for one less camp. Maybe carve an hour out of the afternoon to sit on the floor and build a train track. Oh can you imagine what might happen if we simply participate in play? Presently so. Like chuck your phone out the window kind of present. Oh man, I have a sneaky hunch mommas, it might just make a world of a difference. So for all of our hearts and the sakes of our dear ones, may our summer be play-filled.