1. I secretly smile when my younger child gets a good shot in.
He gets tackled, bonked, hit, kicked, and thrown around a lot. It’s nice to see him stand his ground. It’s nice to see him stand up for himself. I don’t want to see my older child get hurt, but sometimes he deserves it. 2. I hide from my children sometimes. There are times when I just need a minute. Alone. By myself. In silence. Sometimes, I hide. To my husband, it may look like I am doing laundry or going to the bathroom. But I just need to take a minute for myself. 3. I love and hate the car cart Grocery shopping is hell. Children do not like to be restrained and pushed around a store full of food without being able to grab and eat said food. Everyone knows that, so some genius decided the solution was to make the restraint look like a race car. It can be a miracle. It can be a disaster. On the rare occasion that there is a cart available and both of my children sit nicely and pretend to drive, it’s wonderful. However, most of the time I push this giant monstrosity through the tiny aisles while also holding at least 1 screaming child who decided that driving was just too traumatic. 4. I love naptime I love snuggles. I love story time. I love mealtime with my children. I love playing and playing and playing and playing and playing. But at some point I just want to catch my breath. I need to do the laundry and the dishes. Nap time is my time to catch up. Stay-at-home moms sometimes get chastised for nap time. To clear the air, nap time is not a time for sitting on the couch, eating bon bons and watching soap operas. And even if that is what we did, everyone gets a lunch break, right? 5. I fantasize about destroying my children’s future homes My children will grow up and have homes of their own. When that happens, I am going to walk in, open the cabinets, and throw everything on the floor. I am going to unfold all of the folded laundry. I am going to spill milk all over the floor. I am going to eat Cheetos on the couch and wipe my hands all over it. I am going to paint a picture, rub my hands in the paint, and then touch every wall. I am going to wipe boogers all over everything. Or, I will walk nicely through every room and just fantasize about doing all of these things. 6. There is only so much touching that I can handle I love my cuddles and snuggles and hugs and kisses when I stay at home. But that also means being pulled on, pushed, jumped on, and stepped all day. My children fight over me, and to be honest, I’m not that great. I don’t understand why I’m the ultimate prize. They need to touch me ALL the time. There is a point of no return. There is a point where I just can not be touched anymore. That usually happens about an hour before my husband comes home. I don’t think he fully understands why I cringe when he walks in the door and hugs me. I really wish I didn’t. But I just can’t endure anymore physical contact. 7. I wish I was more patient I wish I had more patience. I wish I had more endurance. I wish I had more energy. I see my flaws very clearly, so there is no need to point them out. I know that I am not a perfect mom. I know that my children are not perfect. I know better than anyone just how flawed I am. 8. I love my children’s independence I know that children grow up too fast, but I love when I don’t have to do everything for everyone. I love when I can just tell my son to go potty and he does. I love when I can set out clothes and magically my son is dressed. I love being able to give my son a whole sandwich with the crusts on. Their independence makes my life easier. 9. I miss my babies I love my children’s independence, but I do actually miss my babies. I miss their baby smell, their baby snuggles, their baby giggles, their baby breath. I miss nursing them and rocking them to sleep. I miss the time when they didn’t argue with me. I miss their utter dependence on me for their every living need. 10. All the parenting advice is crap. There are thousands of books and articles and podcasts about the “right” way to parent. There are nosy relatives who think they know what is best. There is no one right way to parent. There are a bunch of wrong ways to parent, but there is no holy grail of parenting. You have to learn who your child is and what they need. No one can judge what you are doing if you are trying your best. No one knows what is working and what is not working except you.
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You were an easy baby. You were an easy toddler. I appreciated your content personality. You were a breath of fresh air after having a strong-willed first child. You were a piece of cake. However, you were also easy to ignore. I am sorry that I take advantage of your easy-going nature. I am sorry that sometimes you get ignored. I am sorry that your brother gets more of me because he is louder and bigger and more demanding. You are content to play nicely while I take a minute to catch my breath. You are willing to help me pick up your toys as well as your brother’s toys. You are content to let your brother have the toy you are playing with. You are content.
I love how sweet and mellow you are. You remind me of your daddy. His unwavering calm is one of the reasons I love him. However, it’s also one of the reasons that he rarely gets his way in his relationships. He is more interested in maintaining peace than speaking his piece. I push him to speak his mind and I will do the same with you. I will push you to move out of your comfort zone. Peace is sometimes not the answer, especially if it means you get walked all over. It is okay to break the silence. It is okay to push the limits. It is okay to get your way sometimes. It is even okay to call me out if I take advantage of that easy-going personality. Tell me when you need something. Tell me when you want something. Tell me when you need me. Tell me when you need attention. Don’t always settle for maintaining the peace. Stir it up. You deserve to get your way. A rainbow. A special gift from God. A personal revelation that God keeps his promises, that God is sovereign, that God loves us. They are the calm after a storm. Rainbows are beautiful, but they are fleeting. They only last for moments. That is why I hold my rainbow. The storm. About a year ago, my husband and I were graced with another child. We saw the positive pregnancy test and were elated. Our family was growing. Our little boys were convinced they were going to have a baby sister. We talked about how amazing it would be to meet our newest little blessing. However, we never did. We lost our third child around 14 weeks gestation. Our home was filled with devastation. My husband and I mourned our loss with our two older children. I cannot describe the pain that comes with losing a child. It is something I would not wish on my worse enemy. My rainbow. God blessed us with another child just several months after our loss. We were overjoyed, yet terrified. A miscarriage stays with you. Thankfully, our little girl thrived. She was born healthy and happy almost a year to the day of the loss of our third child. She is our rainbow baby. Rainbow baby is a coined term for a baby born after a miscarriage. The calm and beauty after a storm. With our first two children, I listened to the "expert" opinions. They told me that my sons needed to get used to sleeping by themselves. That they needed to get used to time without mommy. I laid them down for naps in their beds. I cherished the snuggles with them, but also tried to make sure that they learned to sleep on their own. With our daughter, I cannot bring myself to lay her down sometimes. It takes several tries to let go. Losing our third child made me realize that this time with my newborn is a blessing. I was never able to snuggle our third because she was gone too soon. I see my older two children becoming little boys who don’t want to snuggle with mommy anymore. I understand that my baby will eventually be gone. She will turn into an independent toddler, a little girl, a preteen, a teenager, and finally an adult. I have lost three babies. Two are alive in memories and glimpses of their baby-selves within their growing faces. One is alive in Heaven. My daughter will only be this little for moments. She is a rainbow. A fleeting picture of God’s love for me. I will hold her and cherish her sweet baby smell as long as I can. So when someone tells me to put my daughter down, I will smile but many times say no. I will hold my rainbow while she is still little. And love every minute. Every mom has said it whether they mean it or not. This is the last time…
This is the last time that I’m going to tell you to put on your shoes. Okay, but this is the last time I’m going to read this story. This is the last time I’m going to ask you to go to time out. This is the last time…. I’ve been saying that a lot lately. Partially because I am exhausted and don’t have the willpower to follow through with a consequence the first time my kids don’t listen. And partially because my kids are at the age where when they find something they like and it MUST happen a bazillion times in a row. I was beginning to feel drained. I was annoyed. Why do I have to keep saying and doing things over and over and over? Then, there was a moment. A “huh, I haven’t had to do that in a long time” moment. The moment I knew that eventually every phase will end. In that moment, I realized that there really will be a last time. A last bottle A last binky A last wet slobbery toddler kiss A last milk drunk baby snuggle A last middle of the night nursing session A last time buckle of the 5 point harness A last stroller ride A last swaddle A last up all night A last first tooth A last first rice cereal A last first step A last first word A last first day of school A last battle over what to wear A last mommy will you fix this A last kissed boo-boo A last mommy help me A last tie my shoes A last babysitter A last tuck me in A last goodnight kiss They won’t be little forever. Everything eventually ends because we are always changing. Everything is a phase. And while I will celebrate the last time my toddler bites me, I will mourn the day when I put my little boy down and never pick him up again. Today, we spent a wonderful morning at our neighborhood park. The slides, the swings, the play-set. It is all so magical and fun for you. You could spend hours here. I want you to remember this feeling. I want you to remember how much you loved playing at the park. I want you to remember the feeling of joy from simply swinging before your not yet grown body is surging with grown-man hormones. I want you to remember what it felt like to slide as fast as you could, to swing as high as the sky, to dig a hole in the sand all the way to China. I want you to remember.
Because one day you will be a teenager. One day, you will look at a park completely differently. You might see it as a way to express your independence. You might see it as a way to rebel without being caught. You might see it as a place to experiment with cigarettes or alcohol. You may see it as a place to dispose of the evidence. You might see it as a place to spraypaint disgusting artwork and naughty words that your three year old self would disapprove of. Remember. Remember how much you were confused by the dirty pictures. Remember that we had to go home early because mommy didn’t need you to learn about the human body in that manner. Remember how hurt you were when someone destroyed your favorite toy? The alligator that rocked back and forth? Remember? Today was a blessing. Today you were young. Today you enjoyed being outside and playing with your brother. Today was good. But you are not the only three year old who will ever play at this park. There will be more coming every day. Those children deserve a park to play at as well. They deserve to have a day as wonderful as today. They deserve to remain young. To not have to slide down a slide covered in dirty pictures. To play in sand not littered with cigarette butts. To play. To just be little. Remember. |
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AuthorI am a writer, a crafter, a DIYer, a mom, wife, a daughter, a professional, and whatever I decide to be tomorrow. While I spend most of the day being called mama, I am much more than that. Archives
June 2018
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