By Jessica Urlichs

This is what I want to remember.

On our drive back from our holiday, I started to think about the unpacking I had to do, the washing, and about 100 other mundane tasks that were taking me away from the moment I was in.

I was tired. I was over it. The kids were carrying on in the back seat and I was rolling my eyes until they finally fell asleep.

As I watched the rain splattering off the windscreen, I couldn’t help but think of all the people who don’t make it home to their loved ones. The families who, one minute are listening to nursery rhymes on the car stereo, and the next are holes in their loved one's hearts and articles in the paper.

I turned around to look at my two sleeping children and felt scared. The type of scared you feel when love gets too overwhelming. Like now that you have it, you couldn’t live without it type of scared.

The sad truth is some of us don’t come back. It seems morbid to let other people's tragic circumstances make you feel fortunate. But maybe that’s what we need to take out of those tragedies. That tomorrow isn’t promised to you, nothing is, except this moment you choose to stay in, for however long you choose to stay in it.

The tasks we need to get done, the clean house, the money we chase for the next bill, the wanting better, the material things in life, more of this and of more of that. None of it matters.

You think it matters in the moment. But you’ll always have something on your ‘to do’ list the day you die. And without them, my children, the rest doesn’t matter to me.

So Mama, hold them close. Watch them sleep a little longer. Steal that extra kiss while they’ll give them to you. When it all feels too much, find strength in knowing they’re one of your greatest achievements.

You are rich in love and lucky beyond measure. Be safe. Be present. Be grateful.

By Jessica Urlichs, an honest mom to two under two who gets that social media is best used to inspire, not influence.