Siblings Brother and Sister

f you’re looking for instant gratification, life as a mom of young kids is not where you’ll find it. Every day seems like a month when you’re just trying to get to the next soccer practice, hair cut or making a quick stop for milk.

However, there are those moments when you realize you are doing something right.

I like to call them “miracle moments.” They catch you off guard. You wonder how it happened and what laid the foundation for such an occurrence. They seem like miracles to me because I honestly don’t understand the cause and effect of such events. I am so entrenched in the battle, day in and day out, that I don’t see the fruits of my labor.

There are so many variables, so many directions in which to lead your children, that you simply have to believe in yourself or it becomes overwhelming.

Will picking just one sport over two make a difference? How about those guitar lessons that will have you running out of your routine for weeks? Are they worth it? Will feeding them fish sticks and Pop Tarts really hurt that much? Or would fueling their bodies with apples and peanut butter be better?

You want to lead them down healthy paths that will carry them into adulthood. But in the midst of the daily grind, you have to make quick decisions. It’s a given that mistakes will be made and kids won’t always eat their fruits and vegetables.

But you plow ahead, doing your best, and somehow it works. It’s got to be working, or else these moments would not exist.

They could be small, quick moments when you see your child make the right decision without prompting. Or they could be more dramatic moments that deserve more reflection.

I have experienced these on occasion, and although rare at this stage in my young family’s life, I’d like to believe I’ll begin to see them more often as my boys grow.

They’re already more noticeable in my 8-year-old, who when truly needed, will make unbelievably mature choices. In a recent instance when he realized his mom was hurt, he did just that.

He didn’t hesitate a second when he saw the blood. He came running to my rescue, lifting the jackets, backpacks, lunch boxes and art projects out of my hands.

He and his brother had jumped out of the car moments before and were running around the yard. As I glanced their way, my arms full, I flung the car door across my face — cutting a giant gash in my nose.

He quickly took the bags, the keys and his brother and ran into the house. Before I was halfway up the sidewalk, he had emerged with paper towels and informed me he was going to give his little brother a bath (the first thing I do each night when we get home). He didn’t stop there. He not only gave him a bath, put a diaper on him (which he had only done two other times, unsuccessfully) and got him dressed, but he was also trying to take care of his mama in the meantime. Once I was able to assess the situation, I realized what he had done for me.

Another moment came when he made a choice to forgive his little brother for slugging him. He was attempting to comfort him when the incident occurred, making it all the more difficult for his 8-year-old mind to do the forgiving.

Or was it? Again, from somewhere beneath the surface came a highly mature second-grader who somehow understood forgiveness was more important that hurt.

How did this happen? I surely couldn’t take credit. Somehow this little boy’s heart was so full of love for his brother, it didn’t have to make sense. He just knew what needed to be done.

The moment caught me looking for a why. And then I realized what had been happening. During those times we’re running errands, giving baths and making suppers, exhausted and wondering if we can do it any longer, they’re watching us.

And although he may raise his voice when he’s angry because that’s what you’ve done, he also sees you when it really counts, when you’re selflessly helping someone who is hurt. Or when you’re forgiving someone who doesn’t deserve it.

Moms don’t get instant gratification. It comes in between the fish sticks and veggies, little by little. But it needs to be remembered. It needs to be a big deal. Because too often, we fall onto our beds crying, thinking we can’t make it another day; it’s just too hard. And in those times we need to remember we’re doing something right — and we need to keep going. One day we will look back and realize there were many more of those “miracle moments” than we could see through the grass-stained clothes and the dirty, hand-printed windows.

Alicia Morgan is news/digital editor at the Terre Haute, Indiana Tribune-Star. Email her at alicia.morgan@tribstar.com.