Kairos

Apparently, it means a moment where time stops. Or maybe a better way to say it would be a moment where time stops mattering. There's a blog post that's gone a bit viral in which the author uses this concept in reference to parenting. (here in case you're interested - thanks Laura and Margaret!) So I've been thinking about that. It'd be good if I'm going to be bad about journaling to at least make an effort to record some of my kairos moments with my babies. Here's the best one from today:

We were at the library for story time. There were a lot of kids there and it was pretty loud and chaotic. Both my children were crawling all over me and not paying attention to the librarian. I was slightly irritated that Milo was not appreciating the activity that I had kind of killed myself to get him to on time (two poopy diapers per child during the getting ready process! Seriously!?!?) and which we were doing for his benefit (ok, mine too - gotta keep them busy!). But Milo stopped squirming for a second and climbed onto my lap. He held my face with both hands and turned it toward himself so that he could plant a big, deliberate, sloppy kiss on my cheek. Something he has never, NEVER done before. And for a little space of time, that was the whole world - me with breakfast on my shirt and Milo with his wild, curly, unbrushed toddler hair sharing one of the sweetest kisses I have ever known.

(Yes, I've said, "Milo, give mommy a kiss!" and he'll sort of punch me with his mouth. (By the way, Walter is all about the head-butting. That's what he thinks kisses are. Head butts.) Milo is not a very cuddly kid. We hit the boy persona pretty hard around here. If I want to cuddle, I better be prepared to watch a lot of Thomas. Because there is no way I'm getting more than five seconds of contact without some kind of sedative.)

So, thanks for that, buddy. It means a lot.

And speaking of kairos, when was the last time you felt like this?