These are the Bubble Days of Parenting

Like a warm tide rolling over as I sink into the sand, these days have consumed me.

I wake up in the morning and as I roll myself out of bed the realization hits again, as it does each morning, I am their mama.

These are the bubble days of parenting. The sweet spot.  The gratitude drenched, sun steeped, honey dripped days.


The days we load up the stroller or the car and we take off for hours and hours and walk miles and miles, just the three of us.

The conversations we have on the way.

The questions asked as we arrive.

The observations made every step along our adventure.

Let’s go to the zoo. Let’s go to the park. Let’s go to the library. Let’s go to the museum. Let’s go for a hike. Let’s put on a show!

The food. The drinks. The treats. The coffee. The laughter. The tears.

The laughter through tears.

The listening.

The quiet of sleep.  The easy deep breaths.

The running through the green green grass and tumbling down the hill and skinning of the knees.

The splashing in the water and the digging in the sand and the creation of something wondrous only from their imaginations.

The snow angels and snow people and fresh pure snow on their tiny tongues.

The crunch of the brilliantly red leaves and the pocketing of pine cones as their treasure.

Each season, they show me more.  Each day, a gift of more goodness and light in the midst of chaos and panic and sadness all around us.  But not yet for them.  I’m letting them be little for as long as we possibly can.  The bubble days.

We’ve hit this entirely sweet spot lately where we just enjoy each other’s company most of the time.  We just get to be together and explore and learn and enjoy everything around us.  As hard as the first year and even the second year can be, it feels like a respite here at 3 years old.

Never was a gift given that was so immensely needed than what they give me each day.  I’ve always taken them everywhere with me, only nowadays I don’t feel fearful as to how it will all go.

They’ve handed me their confidence and joy.  As if wrapped up with a bow and presented at a time when I didn’t even know I desperately needed it. Every part of parenting is outside my comfort zone but they stretch us in the best ways don’t they?

I know the day is coming when they will be in school and activities and their time alone with me will dwindle.  We are in this pocket of time that won’t exist forever.  We will still have these days of magic and wonder, but the bubble will burst on this utopia we have today.  I know that.  I don’t want them to be sheltered from the world.  No good can come of that.   In due time they will know about racism and homelessness and poverty and addiction and all the ugliness in the world.

But that day is not today.   These are the bubble days of parenting.

Today we have:

“Dis is a really good day mama”.

“We don’t wike mean guys. We wike nice guys.  You a nice guy, mama.”

“I wuv sitting wif you.  You wuv sitting wif us, right mama?”

“You are the best mama.  You always take us to fun places.”

“Dat was so kind of you, mama.”


These are days we’ll remember.  The bubble days.  I love being their mama more than anything in the entire world.  Next to sobriety, they are my greatest accomplishment.  If they are kind and productive members of society, we will have done our job.

They are shaping up to be incredible kids.  It is humbling to witness.  I struggle with feeling worthy of it all, but most of the time I do if I keep doing the next right thing.  I know I am all consumed with these kids, but really, what in the world could make a better day than being with them?  When the world feels too heavy, I can look at them and they wash it away.


It almost feels as though I’m mourning a time that hasn’t yet begun.  We have so much to look forward to and so much to learn together.  I don’t want to miss a thing, so I practice mindfulness.

I go back to where we are and sink back into the ocean and let it wash over me.

“Oh hi baby. What a nice baby. He so cute.”

See also:

Dear Parents: You are doing it right

Charging into the Atlantic 

Running on fumes.  On being a woman and caring for myself.

 The Days Parents Remember and the Days Kids Will Forget

Don’t forget this


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