I love being a mother.
I think God had this in his heart when he created me. I am a natural caregiver. It comes so easily from my heart to others.
Those early days were exhausting, and some of the best and worst moments of my life. For example, the day that my oldest son, at the age of two, sprayed his younger brother, who was chilling in his crib, in the face with cleaning chemicals. His eyes were basically glued shut for 24 hours. I maybe got 457th place in the category "worst mom of the year" in 2008. By 2010, I hadn't improved very much, and son #2 was once again on the losing end of a war with his brother, and was being seen by the doctor for a large puss filled blister on his face that housed 4 large splinters of wood from a "sword fight." Seriously. Seriously. What in the world?! But, truly, the countless moments that I spent rocking and kissing babies was far more rewarding than the embarrassing moments I spent defending myself in the office of my children's pediatrician. You just never knew what each day would bring as the mother of littles. I often wish I could go back, as the person I am today, and redo a lot of those moments. I think I would do it better. Most certainly I would.
But we only get to live life in the present tense though. And the stage of parenting that I am in now, I'm definitely rocking it, as I did shaking in my shoes with a screaming baby who couldn't see. I have all the wisdom I need. Said no mother ever. In ten years I will look back and know all the things I should do. I will know that this stage is the best, and you can't get these years back, and an empty nest is weird. Because. In ten years, I will have essentially launched, hopefully successfully, two sons. Ten years. That's it. I will be 47, and ohmaword, have the potential to be a Grandma. Ohmaword. It's true. But let's hope not.
Today my real life scenario is all about the emotions. Dealing with complex issues of how to deal. How to manage action, reaction, repercussions, and thought processes. I get you, friends, I get you. When you tell me that I'm hard to deal with because. emotions. I get you. It might have taken me 37 years to fully comprehend that I am a handful, but I'm there. I. Am. Tracking. Thank you for your grace. Thank you for loving me anyway. Truly.
I'm exhausted every day because I work all the hours and come home to mold and guide. And it's hard. And it requires effort. It requires coaxing, encouraging, and vigilance. Because you could just let this moment and that moment slip, but then what? Let the moody silence go because you can't even, or stop and address it? I know next gen me will have all the answers. I wish I could be her. 50 is the new 20, right? But no, I will not wish away a whisper of this vaporous life.
These sweet, sweet sons of mine are my whole heart. (I know I am completely over-the-top biased, but they are so lovable.) I see they are uncertain of themselves and this new world. I see it is difficult to make the transition to life as a process that I engage and do, rather than receive. It's a big leap. Uncharted. Intimidating.
I'm in for the ride, kiddos, Mommy is here. We're quickly approaching the "Don't touch me" phase. We're past the "Rock me" phase. So while we're stuck somewhere in the middle, somewhere that it's okay to hug that hurt today, but don't ask me about school tomorrow, know Mommy's heart is always for you. That it has always been for you. It has been my greatest joy to watch over you (or try to...Sorry Aaron). And as the distance between you and me begins to expand, know that as it is a hard transition for you, it is also a hard transition for me. In almost equal parts I want to hold you tight and watch you fly.
All I can ask. All I can hope. Is that in the end....
May passion be the wind
That leads you through your days
And may conviction keep you strong
Guide you on your way
May there be many moments
That make your life so sweet
Oh, but more than memories
I pray that God would fill your heart with dreams
And that faith gives you the courage
To dare to do great things
I'm here for you whatever this life brings
So let my love give you roots
And help you find your wings
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