“Calgon, take me away!” Remember that commercial? A woman at home surrounded in chaos, belts out her cries for relief. Suddenly, she’s relaxing in an endless bubble bath in solitude.

How incredible that would be to have relaxation and solitude from just four magical words. Unfortunatley, that isn’t reality. I tried it this morning … nothing happened.

Worries abound. Stress consumes. Deadlines nag. Kids get sick. And solitude evaporates quicker than bath bubbles.

The best bet for getting in that type of relaxation is running a bath in the middle of the night, or locking ourselves in the bathroom when everyone is still awake. Granted, the kids pounding on the door asking what’s for dinner would interrupt the rejuvenation we’re looking for.

My daughter bought me a bathtub pillow last year for Mother’s Day. I regretfully admit I’ve used it only a small handful of times. But my intention would have been to wear it out before the next holiday …

How does a mom replenish?

A few nights ago, my daughter was coughing relentlessly, my husband was snoring, and the dog made noises as he dreamt. Who was awake? Me. I attempted to give my daughter more cough medicine, but she was sound asleep. I rolled my husband over, but it only temporarily helped. The dog … well apparently his dream couldn’t be interrupted either. I desperately needed sleep, but that wasn’t looking too promising.

So I decided to replenish another way … I grabbed a book and my book lamp, and crawled under the covers like a child pretending to go to sleep. I engrossed myself into the storyline and characters and the noises surrounding me faded in the distance. Suddenly I was in Finland with the characters experiencing their adventures with excitement as they did.

Bubbles didn’t overflow the bed that night, but renewal spilled all over.

If we go on empty too long, our patience and understanding disappear along with the bath bubbles. So let’s get creative moms — revive yourself where you can!

It’s Spring Break. Before my daughter entered school, it was just another week in March. Now it’s so much more. Extra time together as a family. Mornings to sleep in. The marker of one more quarter remaining in the school year. By the sheer nature of the title, it’s a taste of winter vanishing and the new season beginning.

Lifeless barren twigs resting all winter, show signs of new growth. The brown remnants of last year’s perennials melt into the dirt, but below new life pushes through. A pruned rose bush resembling lanky toothpicks plunged into the ground is decorated with buds waiting for their moment to say hello.

Springtime: it’s a promise of renewal.

For me, spring is energizing. Life is full of excitement, challenges, and opportunities for growth. But winter has a tendency to overstay its welcome. Ever felt like that? Prolonged difficulty. Unknown direction. Unanswered prayers. Overwhelming circumstances. Never-ending schedules.

I’m one who likes to check off items on my To-Do list and bask in my sense of accomplishment. Unfortunately, life doesn’t always afford that luxury and parenting isn’t so neat and tidy either. Parenting is the greatest challenge and most fulfilling position I could ever imagine. But often our instructions feel like the uninvited guest who lingers when our repetitions playback like a recording.

Listen!

I didn’t hear, “excuse me.”

No, you cannot wear sandals in the winter … it’s freezing cold.

Don’t be surprised and complain over doing chores … you know it’s a weekly event.

I asked you to go clean your room, not go play.

Play nicely with others.

Don’t interrupt me when I am on the phone.

Yes, parenting can feel like a long winter at times. But there is hope!! Spring is coming. Underneath all the struggle, the god-given beauty is germinating its new growth. It just hasn’t come out yet to greet us, but it’s in there …

Think about it–did we learn the first time around? I know I didn’t. My mother’s continual reference to my bedroom floor’s carpet being multi-colored from all the clothes was a drab winter for her I’m sure. But somewhere along the way, spring showed up. Today, our bedroom carpet is only one color.

Throw out the To-Do list. Just take each day as it comes. Spring will come.

A tantalizing smell. An unmistakable sound. A vivid scene. A memorized feeling.

I recently made a pot roast with mashed potatoes and homemade gravy for dinner. The aroma of the roast simmering immediately brought me back to Sundays growing up. We came home from church and walked into the house filled with such aroma.

“That was my favorite meal growing up.” I said. “I tell you that every time I make a roast, don’t I?” My family nodded politely.

It just takes a speck of familiarity to reminisce.

When my daughter and I are cheek to cheek, it evokes fond memories of her as a baby cradling her head against my face as I rocked her.

When the song, “We Are Family” is played, I cannot help but remember how as teenagers in the Philippines, my sister and I used the song to memorize our Tagalog language vowel techniques.

As I am now reading Sisterchicks in Gondolas! by Robin Jones Gunn, the scenes she paints of Venice take me directly back to the year we spent our anniversary in the enchanted floating island city. Our walks at night along the canals were romantic with the lights glistening off surrounding water and beautiful live music echoing the corridors. The following day, plentiful pigeons in San Marco square encircled our daughter, while we laughed and videotaped the playful incident.

Such fond memories.

As parents, what memories do we intentionally create? Making memories doesn’t require money or extravagant trips. Memories can be created from the every day little things, traditions, or simple family outings.

What will cause our children to reminisce when they become adults? As parents, we paint the scenes upon our children’s hearts. Take time to etch the backdrop and landscapes into our lives so that fond images imprint the canvas.

Leftovers in their less visible form are called memories. Stored in the refrigerator of the mind and the cupboard of the heart. ~ Thomas Fuller