Mother's Day.

Monday, May 13, 2013

On the heels of Mother's Day,
my favorite day of the year, {besides my birthday,}
you know, 
'cause it's all about me,
I have plenty to reflect on.
First, I had a few requests.
Breakfast.  Some alone time.  With the couch.
For my hunky Brian to rig a new rope swing from the old Oak in our front yard.
The third swing since we've been in this house.
Each one worn well to the last minute of August, 
until it literally snaps in half (the swing, not the rope.)
One more thing, on endless summer days,
that keeps the kids in the yard, within my sight and grasp, a little bit longer.
On Mother's Day, I dreamt and slept.
Also because it was Sunday, and that's what we do.
Having fallen victim to my husband's magical Mother's Day pancakes.
Sprinkled with some magical sleeping potion.  Or roofies.  Something.
A Mother's Day treat, nonetheless.
And in this state, I reflected on what I now know.
EACH day, I learn something new.
About my children, the world, myself.
I've learned motherhood is NEVER boring.  NEVER old.  NEVER easy.
I've learned my place in this world, as a mother.
My children, when told they'll have quality daddy time, 
because I'll be gone working, resting, whatever,
always proclaim, "YAY!!!"  with ecstatic cries.
"Thanks, guys."  (Although it secretly makes me happy that they're okay without me and think their father is more fun.)
"No offense, mom, but dad is a lot more fun than you."
"Hey!  I'm TOTALLY fine with that!  It's not my job to be fun.  My job is to feed you, keep you clean, keep you safe, take care of you when you get sick." 
"Yeah," Jack agrees.  "You're kinda' the wet blanket."
I've learned and know wholeheartedly,
what's important.
I will drop it all. . .all the things separate from my family that fuel and sustain me, my myriad hobbies and passions,
for the simplest of moments with my children.
Beyond priceless and more meaningful than anything else I've ever done.
At this point,
I've learned I can perfectly fit my nose, lip and chin in the crux of my 4-year-old's neck for a kiss.  So much warmth and sweetness in that little crook.
The sound of his little mini-mouse voice, 
telling daddy about the baby chicks that hatched at preschool, his little head barely clearing the top of the back seat of the car as he shouts this great discovery.  
Although I work to stay in the moment,
I know and feel and hear that voice, soon replaced with the sweet and smooth baritone of his father. 
My heart bursts with pride yet aches with despair 
for the loving and nurturing 6-year-old Gracie has grown to be.
Who is often inconsolable whenever someone gets hurt or is left out,
weak or vulnerable.
Who is OVERLY aware and sensitive to the feelings and needs of others.
I know this will be a beautiful and cumbersome trait for her to carry in life, as it has been for me.
To care for, love, tend to and connect with others without letting it consume her.
I relish in the 8-year-old who gets himself up and ready in the morning, scrambles his own eggs and pours his own juice.  Douses himself in Axe Body Spray and wets his cowlick down before school.
I relish in the one thing I'm good at. 
Taking care of myself.  
Something, although I am reluctant to admit it,
knows is good for my parenting, good for my children to see,
inspiring to my husband.
"When we don't look to our children to make us happy, but find our happiness elsewhere, we liberate them to be true to who they are.  They are able to bask in our happiness without the burden of being the reason for it.  Doing something we love, connecting to our inner being in stillness and solitude, honoring our body by taking care of it and being at peace with how we look, we are teaching our children to value themselves."  -Dr. Shefali Tsbary
My mom taught me this and continues to.
Always being there when we need(ed) her,
but creating a life of her own, one independent of motherhood 
that feeds, fuels her and brings her contentment.
The kids waited anxiously all week to share their homemade gifts.
As they presented me with their finest,
I am again, reminded of what is most valuable.

Through their honest, sweet and simple words, 
that this life is about connecting.  Not just with ourselves, but others.  Giving back as much as we can.

Their perception of us, how they see us, is SO important.  Not how the world views us, but how THEY do when they look up.  It is what shapes their little futures and sets them up for life. 

I know this.
In those brief moments of recognition and praise
on this special day carved out for us mother's,
that the paralyzing fear,
the exhausting demands,
the fist clenching frustration,
the all-consuming rage,

Happy Mother's Day to all moms,
most importantly, my mom.
Who, above all else, quietly gave us the freedom to stumble, fall, try again, explore.
Ultimately arriving to the strong, independent, self-motivated women we are today. 
Thank you, mom.  We love you.


Anonymous said...

I like the prairie peplum and gasoliers!

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