Friday, May 18, 2012

I had started crafting on one thought, when I got broadsided by another one.
That happens to me a lot.
Love when that happens.
This one, much more important than the one I had goin'.
The days all 3 kids are in school, Charlie for a few hours in the morning,
are 'the magical days.'
It is the 'me' time all mother's crave and often don't get enough of.
I'm fortunate enough to have it a few days a week.
Yesterday, Gracie's kindergarten class hosted mass, where she was going to be reading a petition.
I nearly choked on my chocolate when she ENTHUSIASTICALLY proclaimed she would be reading all by herself at the podium!
This, the little girl, who for the past three weeks, has TOTALLY regressed.
Throwing tantrums the minute we pull in to the parking lot of school,
begging me to come in with her,
nervous poops, crying at the door when I leave, refusing to participate in certain things at school. . .
Although SO frustrating at first, another phase, I try to remind myself.
Another phase to float through.
So I go in with her every morning instead of dropping her off breezily at the door.
Sit in the bathroom with her, (patiently) while she does her business.
Calmly and confidently hug, kiss her and say, 'have a good day Gracie!' as she grabs for my shirt and cries for me as I shove her across the threshold of her kindergarten room.
This same girl who, although excited to play t-ball, WANTED to play,
sat in the outfield in the POURING rain her first game, refusing to make eye contact or socialize?
Who has suddenly become (refer to recent post,) paralyzed with fear to step in to her leotard and cartwheel her way through gymnastics!
Annoying, yes.
A part of parenting.  Yes.
Anyways, THIS 'new' Gracie?  PUBLIC SPEAKING!?!  In front of a church full of people???
No way.  She won't do it.  I had to see this.  WANTED to see my baby girl prove to herself that she CAN do it.
I made no big deal out of it.
Didn't even bring it up.
Just said, "Yep!  I'll be there at church this morning."
Sitting in the front pew, I'm sure breaking some sort of 'church' etiquette (think the 1st pew might be reserved for the disabled, not to mention, whipping out my cell phone to videotape my baby girl,)
who's been a circus of emotions the past few weeks, SPEAK!  OUT LOUD!
(Pause music and hit full screen if you want to hear.  If not, just know.  She did it.:)  Beautifully.
video
Another one of those moments in parenthood.
Where your heart leaps.  Your body heaves a sigh and lets go to the power of love and pride in your child.
What's interesting though, were my thoughts PRECEDING her little sneakers clambering up the stepstool tucked conveniently behind the podium for little legs.
It wasn't, "Will she do it?  Will she freak?  Will she collapse in to a puddle of tears and come running to me?"
I didn't care.  I've been conditioned the past few weeks not to know what to expect from her.
To just go with it.
No.  My thoughts were, "There are children who's parents won't show.
There are children who aren't getting a good education, in a loving and safe environment.
There are children who's mom won't pull it together and put her own needs, schedule and other stuff aside,
to sit front row and center to be there for ONE sentence read aloud by their 5-year-old.
There are parents, who will miss these things.  Some, by choice."
My heart sank.  I bit my lip to fight away tears at this gut wrenching realization.
But these thoughts were quickly replaced with two things.
I AM enough.
I can always do more and try harder and do better as a mother.  But I don't have to be so hard on myself and compare myself to every other mother I perceive to be amazing, because it doesn't matter.
I'm here.
The second, we need to adopt a baby.
Sure our house can be crazy, I'm crazy, we do a lot wrong as parents, but we have more love to give a child who has none.
(Another dream I have, which I know my husband will be THRILLED about.)
Along with the chicken coop I want in the yard.
Oh, and. . .(insert every other bucket list life dream I want to fulfill. . .)
Ironically, I skipped out of church, BURSTING with pride for my baby,
for. . .I don't know.  Proving me wrong?  Showing me another part of her?
When a dear friend posted a link to an article that was fabulous.
And perfectly congruous to what my morning's thoughts brought.
(Read the article.  AMEN.)
I will continue on with my spring days,
allowing those thoughts to permeate every other thought of self-judgment, frustration, disappointment,
not only in myself, but fellow moms.
WHO.CARES.
I'm no better than the next guy.
I have days where I've judged 12 moms before 10 o'clock.
What a waste of my time and energy.  I continue to go back, daily, to the inspiring words of my dearest.
To go to bed at night feeling GOOD about how I behaved, reacted, engaged in the day.
Was it authentic to who I am and want to be as a wife, mother and friend?
Do I feel good about myself?  The way I choose to live?  Parent?  Love?
Do YOU?
If it was skipping out on the last 20 minutes of your son's baseball game to go to yoga.
Or canceling a long withstanding appointment to be at home with your daughter.
Who.cares?!  Was it the right thing for that moment?
Living authentically, in perfect harmony and balance with our morals and values, 
while supporting our dreams and futures of our children.
On the heels of mother's day, letting go of who our OWN mother's may or may not have been,
the mother's we THINK we're supposed to be,
or who our neighbor is,
and just being the best we can.
I have to honor that I have a camera in front of me most days,
yelling at my kids to, "Get over here!  Stand still!  Smile!"
I COULD be right in there with them, like some amazing moms I know,
participating, engaging,
but this is how I get in.
Photographing.
From behind the scenes.
 Charlie hell bent on getting his new ride clean.
 He's meticulous, like me.
Being called to the outdoors with this unbelievably beautiful weather we've been having.
To grow, plant and water the seeds that will carry us through the next season of living.
Jack and Charlie are super helpful.
Participating in our community garden (which, for my husband, is right up there with wanting more babies and chickens.)
Things he could not be MORE uninterested in participating in.
Hey.  We play hard.
Our plot in our new community garden, what my husband claims to be the 'most hippie' thing on the planet.
Well, palm-roll me some dreads and call me Blossom.
You married a hippie.
Feeling good about how we spend our time, as we eagerly await summer,
most importantly, knowing we're doing enough.
Waiting for phases to pass, sleepy heads to wake.
Peace, man.









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