Each and every morning my three-year-old rushes into my room with one very important question:
“Can we make Popsicles today?”
And let’s be honest, popsicles in the middle of the winter are not my priority. It is FREEZING outside. I am freezing. I want to take a shower and shave my legs and drink warm cinnamon milk. Let’s not make Popsicles today.
I take a deep breath and try to plaster a happy-mommy-smile on my face.
Sure kiddo. Go for it. I’ll be in the shower.
While I lather, he dreams of frozen cream. Sometimes he mixes water and chocolate chips in a cup with a spoon and shoves them into the back of the freezer. Oranges and water were a big hit for a couple days. Frozen apples didn’t go so well. I like to think that I am fostering independence and creativity by refusing to assist in his Popsicle parade. DID I MENTION THAT IT IS SNOWING OUTSIDE?
But hold the phone because he has invented what I like to call the “Barf-cicle.”
Looks yummy… right?
Crushed animal crackers soaked in water, frozen in a cup with a spoon.
When his newest creation had served it’s time in the freezer, my three-year-old instantly fell head over heels. I’m not kidding. He marched that Popsicle all around the house with pride echoing in each and every footstep.
And then I cried. Because being a mom makes me cry about every little thing.
In the book The Alchemist, written by Paulo Coehlo, a man wakes in the middle of the night with his heart pounding. While sleeping on a rock, his destiny had called to him in his dreams and told him of a treasure waiting for him. The man quickly packed up his belongings and left to begin his search.
The adventure of the quest takes the man across the world, teaches him new skills, and introduces him to amazing people that change his life. In the end, the man discovers his treasure to be buried under the rock he had dreamt upon many years before. His treasure had always been waiting for him – right at his beginning.
The adventures of the search taught the man wisdom. Having combed the earth for his treasure, the man appreciates the wealth and security it provides – so much more.
When my legs are hairy and my kitchen messy, I dream of a treasure. Sometimes my treasure involves glittery nail polish, silence, and a really good book. Other times it is fresh air, time to write, and/or a girls night. Date nights are always a treasure – no doubt about that.
But each and every time I leave to return home, the echoing of eight little legs running toward me with their arms outstretched fills my heart with joy. Sometimes I need time away to remember that my treasure is right here. Filling my freezer with barf-cicles and loving me more than I deserve.