Stuff nightmares are made of

You're still reading? After that title? You are braver or crazier than I thought.

Recently, a friend of mine posted his friend's story of losing a 3 year old daughter to an undetected brain hemorrhage. They didn't know anything was wrong. She went to bed one night and never woke up. Three years old.

It's like someone crawled into my brain, found the 'deepest, darkest fears' box, ripped it wide open and splayed it all across social media. My heart aches for them. I could cry and have never even met them.

Three years isn't enough to love your children. In fact, I can't think of a number high enough to suffice. It leaves me wondering (albeit foolishly) how long I have with my own. What if I only had a year left with Michael? What if Bailey didn't wake up one morning?

You understand why I'm not sleeping at the moment.

So my next question is how can I make each moment count? We hear it all the time: "live life to the fullest" or "live today like it's your last." Actually applying it is the hard part.

For example, if this were my last day, would I have sent Bailey to school.

Not a chance. [but long term thinking means she needs her education]

Would I have let anyone else put them to bed.

Negative. [but every once in awhile, a night off is nice]

Would I have been upset about Michael being anywhere but in his seat when it was time for dinner?

Not in the slightest. [but he needs to learn manners and respect]

So how do I spend an adequate amount of quality time with them while still raising them to be good people? The answer still eludes me.

With Bailey, this is how my day goes. "Bailey get up. Bailey it's time to get up. Bailey you need to get ready so we're not rushing around to get you out the door. Bailey, seriously, it's time to get up and go to school. Stop whining, you'll wake your brother up. Bailey, eat your breakfast before it's time to leave. Brush your teeth Bailey. Bailey let's go. Put the cat down Bailey and get in the van. Buckle up Bailey."

How do I know that the "Have a good day sweetie. I love you." when I drop her off is enough to counter all the nagging I do before that?

And with Michael, it's always, "No, Michael. You know better than that. Get your fingers out of your nose. The furniture is to sit on Michael. Stop touching the toilet Michael. Don't throw your cup. You have 3 seconds to get over here. Don't hit your sister. Cut it out. Lay down. It's time to be quiet."

I can completely understand if they don't want to be around me. I can just hear it continuously in my head. Something's got to give. I need to figure out a way to make each day happy and count while teaching them life lessons without feeling like a constant nag. Is this just a part of parenthood or am I doing it wrong?

At work, the rule of technology is that if it feels like there should be a better way, there probably is, even if you are the one who has to invent it. So I need to figure out what tools I have at my disposal to be able to turn this nag-bus around. Surely I am not the first overworked, overtired, desperate-to-do-it-right mother out there. There has to be an answer.

I will find a way, and in time, I will post my success story. I think I can. I think I can. I think I can. In the meantime, I will hope that my hugs, kisses, and asking about their days is enough to bide my oh-so-precious time with them.