Thoughts on Motherhood

  "You have the hardest job in the world," commented one lady at Walgreens while I was carrying Daley in the byorn, holding Ryder's hand and being followed by a screaming 5 year old. I appreciated that comment because at the time, Finley was adamantly begging for a rubber lizard that I told her she couldn't have.  I had warned her that this trip was not for her but, in her words, she thought she needed a "treat because she had not asked for a treat."  Oh goodness.  I knew I must have appeared to be the most wretched mom, dragging my weeping child to the register refusing to spend $3 on a lizard, but as most moms know, it wasn't about the money or the lizard.  After getting home and spending hours dealing with the emotional fallout of that (Finley's 5 year old tantrum), I had to think through my efforts and hope that after all the uncomfortable emotions, maybe a lesson was learned. I realized that really it's not the tantrums, the nightly interruptions, or the relentless requests that make my job difficult.  It's being pushed beyond my psychological limitations, and knowing that how I respond to that challenge means everything. With every moment, I have three pairs of eyes and ears attentive to my words and actions, and that feels big.

  It's especially big when I consider my propensity to fail.  The other day when we arrived at Ryder's gymnastic class, I saw a mom acting impatient with her son. "Take your shoes and jacket off...how many times have we done this?!"  I heard her exclaim.  I thought to myself, 'chill lady...we have 8 minutes, what's the rush?'  In my pride, I even thought that she would see me acting patient with my son and realize that she could have been much more self-controlled.  I let Ryder play with his car toy for a few minutes and then patiently asked him to take his shoes and jacket off.  Of course, he ignored my request and kept rolling the car along the floor.  I then asked him again, maybe a little less patiently. This time, he looked up at me and smiled, then decided it would be fun to run around the room.  I can't remember how long I let that happen before I yelled across the room, "you better get over here RIGHT NOW and take your shoes and jacket off or I will spank your little bottom!!" Not all my responses are as patient and loving as I'd like to believe.

  Lately, in light of Daley's fast approaching one year birthday, and Finley's countdown to kindergarten, I have felt an urgency to cherish their childhood.  God gave me these days to laugh, cry, play and make memories with them, and even though it pains me to think that it is slipping by, it's beautiful because it is a moment in time that I have been given. I laugh when Ryder says 'hot mama' instead of 'hot lava', and runs around the house emphatically warning us of the 'hot mama.'  He makes me laugh when he asks me to turn on the reflector lights on his bike helmet so that he can go 'super fast.'  I love how incessantly Finley talks about her stuffed animals taking naps, eating snacks or wearing jewelry.  Or how she lit up when she put on her dance recital outfit like it was her moment to SHINE.  I cried a little just watching her practice her routine with the other girls, all dolled up in their tutus. Lately, it's been really fun watching the two big kids become buds.  They often play make believe together by using one long run-on sentence, 'pretend I'm going to marry a princess...and some bad guys came...and I found this monkey.'   I find myself wanting to store these memories like deposits in a time capsule.  Even though motherhood is hard, there is a sense that everyday is a divine privilege. One that will forever leave it's mark, with a few extra wrinkles, and one very full heart.