small hand in big hand

Someday, I’ll step into the hot, steaming comfort of a shower, and take my time. No little hands will be banging on the shower stall door, no voices will yell to me, silence will be a part of the relaxation instead of causing me to think it’s a little too quiet…they must be up to something. I’ll take my time with the conditioner. I’ll shave my legs. 

Someday, I’ll cook dinner without stepping over the small bodies of my children or tripping over toy trains. I’ll chop vegetables while I listen to my favorite music, grooving around my kitchen, decompressing from the day.

Someday, my husband and I will have a conversation from start to finish.

Someday, I’ll make plans to go out with some friends without a second thought…no need to plan around anyone else’s schedule or needs. I’ll order that second drink, knowing I won’t be up all night or extremely early the next morning.

Someday, I’ll leave my house to run a simple errand. I’ll get into my car and only buckle myself in. I’ll be in and out of the store in 5 minutes.

Someday, I’ll sit outside in my yard in the warm early summer sunshine. I’ll read a book for hours, devouring the words and the characters and the story.

Someday, I’ll drink a cup of coffee on a Sunday morning. It will be hot right to the last sip.

Someday, I will take as long as I like to get ready. My hands will be moisturized. My teeth will be flossed. Mascara will don my eyelashes. 


Someday, my son will decide he doesn’t need to sing “Sweet Baby James” with me before we say goodnight.

Someday, my daughter will stop showering me with full-on lip-to-lip toddler kisses.

Someday, I’ll shop for groceries with no little voices from the cart, chattering away. The cashier at the check out won’t even glance my way; I’ll just be another boring adult placing items on the conveyor belt.

Someday, my lap will be empty, with no picture books filling my hands, no tiny hands turning pages.

Someday, I’ll be a stranger to all the safe, special places I’ve fallen in love with in the last several years – the children’s room at the library, the zoo, the local children’s art studio, the neighborhood playground.

Someday, my son’s voice – his sweet, cherubic, addictive voice – will change into a young man’s voice.

Someday, my hand won’t be reached for.

Someday, my particular brand of Mama kisses will no longer make all problems go away.

Someday, I too will be that woman, the one who looks at you and your children wistfully in line at the store or as you walk by on the town’s bike path. The one who, maybe, mistakenly utters something about enjoying every moment or about how fast it all goes. I’ll know and remember, of course, that not every moment is enjoyable, and that some days feel so painfully slow. But, by then, I’ll also know how much I miss it, how much I’ll want to go back, just for a few moments, to pick up a small body and hold it close to mine, to whisper sweet and easy reassurances into a toddler girl’s ears, to stroke a little boy’s cheek.

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Elizabeth Bettencourt holds a BFA in Theatre and a BS in Secondary English Education from the University of Rhode Island, a Masters in Reading & Literacy from Endicott College, and a Doctorate in Education from Northeastern University. Prior to becoming a stay-at-home parent full time, Liz taught English Language Arts and theatre at Plymouth South High School, where she also served as the ELA department head and the drama club advisor. Liz has also worked as an instructional coach and education consultant specializing in literacy instruction and differentiated instruction. In addition to her work as a mother, Liz currently directs theatre productions for Massassoit Community College and serves on the board of directors for New Bedford Festival Theatre. The majority of her time, however, is spent raising her son James and daughter Muriel with the help of her super supportive spouse, Matt. Liz is excited to be a part of the team at Providence Moms Blog, where she hopes to refresh her writing skills and reflect on this crazy and beautiful thing that is motherhood.