When L was born, I remember hearing "Enjoy it! It will go by so fast!" from countless people.  In the midst of three-four hour feedings, diaper changes, and getting to know our daughter; the last thing on my mind was enjoying the moment.

I was not the Mom that sat and rocked her baby for hours on end.  Did I rock her and stare at her cute little face and marvel that she was ours?  Yup!  Do I think I missed out on an important piece of motherhood by not doing that?  No.

I have watched our daughter sleep, I have paced with her in the wee hours of the morning to calm an ear ache, and I have celebrated milestones with her.  I have taught her things, I have loved her, nurtured her, praised her, secured her environment, and protected her from day one.

And in the midst of all of that mothering, I got a two year old.

What?

I was watching L play at the park the other day.  She had said,"I do it, Mommy," when it came to playing this particular day.  So, I took a seat on the playground ledge and watched my "big girl do big girl things." I watched the way she climbed the steps, carefully, yet with just enough comfort to not scare her.  I watched the way she made her way to the slide, stopping to yell, "HI MOMMY!" just before she ducked into the opening of the slide.  Lastly, I watched as her face lit up as she made her way down the slide.

Recently I was reminded of how fleeting childhood is.  As mothers, we tend to get caught up in the phases our children go through; wishing for the end to arrive quickly and painlessly.  We have been through many phases already with our two year old; each one more complex than the last.  It can be mind-numbing.   It can make you wish their childhood away.

Over the weekend I was reminded to not do that.

It was a typical Saturday morning (meaning we were running behind, Mommy hadn't had any coffee, and the toddler was being her stubborn self) and our goal of the day was to do the grocery shopping.  I finally got both of us ready, out the door, and to our local grocery store.

As I was getting my daughter out of her car seat, and older man passed by us in the parking lot and he smiled, laughed, and said, "Love them while you can!  Mine will be forty-nine in a couple of weeks!"  I smiled and laughed and off we went into the store to do our shopping.

The mans words echoed through my head the whole morning..."Love them while you can..."  

I wish I would have thanked that man for his advice instead of brushing it off like I have been known to do.

How many times have we heard that?
How many times have we been given advice in a store from a complete stranger about our children's immortality as a little human?
How many times have you smiled, nodded your head, and uttered, "I'm trying.", as you pass them by?

I've lost track.

But, on that Saturday morning, standing in the warm sun with my daughter, looking at this older man, a part of me knew that those words would embed themselves within me.  It was the moment.  It was the way it was done.  Almost as if the universe just plopped that man down right in front of me and said, "Listen to this.  Carry these words with you."

"Love them while you can..."

Yes, sir, I will.