Wow, the holidays come in go like a whirlwind at times. This year, we were blessed to have two Thanksgiving celebrations – a brunch and a dinner! I hope you were able to celebrate with family and friends as well.

As my son navigates his senior year, I’m trying hard to celebrate small moments. Everyday moments that seem like they might go on forever, and that we could easily take for granted, but then they end. Like Friday football nights.

Half a dozen boys gather around pizza boxes, gobbling up sustenance before heading out to the game. Loud, boisterous young men full of inappropriate jokes, small pranks, and testosterone. They play fight, laugh, make fun, and eat SO MUCH! I think each of them eats an equivalent to an entire pizza. There’s 2 liters of coke downed, discarded crusts, crumpled napkins, and paper plates. Then there’s, “I love you mom,” “Be back later mom,” “Can I stay at Mikey’s mom,” and “Thank you Jack’s mom,” “Thanks for the pizza,” “Where can I put my plate,” followed by, quick hugs, sweet smiles, and rowdy departures. Engines roar, doors slam, boys pile into trucks. “Be safe boys,” “Drive carefully,” “Have fun,” and “I love you.”

And then it’s quiet. Very, very quiet. Just discarded pizza boxes. Crumpled napkins. Discarded cups. And I think to myself, the sound of silence is deafening. The emptiness of the moment is heart-wrenching.

Motherhood is a balance of “Please go out and explore the world. Let the world delight in you,” with “Please come back, be safe, and know I love you.” It’s many hectic moments followed by soft sounds and hushes. It’s loud voices, crammed into cars, feeding frenzy followed by waiting up late, guiding, and supporting. It’s as many yeses as possible and firm no’s when needed.

It’s a blessing. It’s exhausting. It’s soul-filling. It’s heartbreaking.

It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.

Here’s to discarded pizza boxes. May we experience many small moments.