Before you know it.

Tonight I was doing laundry, and my three year old was turning the over head light on and off, on and off, so he could see the light in the dryer. I was close to losing my cool and pulling my hair out. Then he wanted to help me put ALL the clothes in the dryer from the washer, which really slows me down. But then I heard a still small voice say "before you know it." And although I am not always, or even sometimes remotely patient, or even that much thoughtful, I got to thinking about this. Before I know it, those grubby little hands won't want to hold mine. Before I know it, those sweet, slobbery mouths will be embarrassed to kiss me. Before I know it, my kids won't want to come and sit in my lap and hug me. Before I know it, when I am not in the room, they won't come and find me in a panic. Before I know it, they won't need me to bathe them, or help them brush their teeth. Before I know it, they won't ask for my help, most likely, they won't even want it. Before I know it, they won't think I am funny or cool. Before I know it, they won't ask me for more milk about a billion times a day. Before I know it, I won't find crusty sippy cups under the couch or behind the bed. Before I know it, I will have no more diapers to change. Before I know it, all those big, clunky baby toys will be replaced with small little ones and video games I don't understand. Before I know it, doors that are always opened will start to close for "privacy". Before I know it, that sweet speech impediment that almost all kids have will correct itself with age, and "futterfly" will most certainly become "butterfly". Before I know it, I won't have to watch my three year old like a hawk, because he likes to throw rocks in the pool. Before I know it, my daughter will start asking me if she is "pretty," and start talking about boys. Before I know it, I won't find squashed pop tarts on the stairs, and crumbs in the bed. Before I know it, poop jokes won't be half as funny to my kids. Before I know it, my babies won't be babies, and they won't need their mama, near as much as they do now. Before I know it, I won't tuck little ones into bed. Before I know it, my kids will come and visit me. Before I know it, all the day to day that often wears me out, will only be a memory. And before I know it, I won't have to do laundry with the light flickering on and off, with little hands begging me to hand him clothes.