Years ago, when I was a young mother of three children under three, Tim asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I handed him the keys to the family van and asked him to take the kids to grandma’s house for the weekend. I had hit my limit and just wanted a clean and quiet house for a couple of days.
I learned something that weekend. That clean and quiet houses are overrated.
I also decided that I wanted to be more intentional regarding my “breaks” from my children. Because, after all, what message does it send to your kids when all you want for your birthday (or Mother’s Day, or any similar occasion) is to be rid of them?
As a mother, the messages we send to our children can have lasting consequences on them. I try not to beat myself up about the mistakes I’ve made in parenting, but I am confident that some of my tactics in those early years have affected them adversely.
I may not be able to right those wrongs completely, but I can say sorry. And I can make changes in my life to not repeat those same mistakes.
So, when I say I will embrace having to still be a mom on Mother’s Day, I mean it. My kids may fall way short on knowing how to “celebrate” me, but I will do my part to demonstrate to them that I am worth celebrating. By not taking a break from them on Mother’s day.
My children drive me nuts sometimes, but they are also my greatest joys in life. I will take a chance on them being the latter on Mother’s Day (even though Murphy’s law ALWAYS comes into play and they are typically THE WORST on Mother’s Day). Bring it. I can take the good with the bad. In fact, it has saved my sanity (and my children’s tender spirits) more times than I can count. Happy (or crappy) Mother’s Day!
Every time we moms are out in public with our littles we hear it from older parents.
“They grow up SO fast.” “Cherish this time.” “They won’t stay little forever.”
Beneath a strained smile, we brush off the comment as patronizing. We roll our eyes to ourselves, convinced that this phase will never end. The sleep deprivation, the babes weighing down our arms, the constant messes, the power struggles, the depleted sense of “self”.
To be sure, the baby/toddler/preschooler phase can wear down the best of us.
But you know what?
The old ladies are right. One day I was stuffing four little bodies into a Costco cart and the next I was sending the youngest of them off to kindergarten.
One day I counted down the hours until my husband came home from work and the next I was so busy shuttling my school-age children around that I was surprised at how early he walked in the door.
One day I was battling the two-year-old tantrums and the next I was helping one of my daughters grapple with teenage depression.
One day I was arranging play dates left and right and the next I was hosting 10-12 girls for a Halloween party that my daughter had planned and prepared entirely by herself.
One day I was whipping up macaroni and cheese for the kids on a regular basis and the next day they were whipping it up so that Tim and I could go out for dinner.
One day they went from this:
To this:
Overnight.
I’d like to think I followed the advice of more experienced moms and enjoyed those earlier days. I did my best to not shrug off the comments at the grocery store about how short this time is. I gave it my best shot.
It didn’t make the time slow down any. Lucky for me, though, I get another chance at this stage of life. Four years ago when I found out I had a viable pregnancy almost seven years after the last one, I pretty much laughed out loud. Pushing the reset button at the ripe old age of 38 was never part of the plan.
Fortunately, for me, a mother of advanced age, I had the perspective I didn’t have the first time around (try though I did to cultivate it). “They grow up SO fast.” “Cherish this time.” “They won’t stay little forever.”
Consequently, raising little Jack has been an absolute joy. Sure, I am older, and even more exhausted than the first time around. But I’m wiser, too. Wise enough to know that I’m going to miss this someday.
We would all do well to remind ourselves of that fact, in every stage of life. “I’m going to miss this someday”.
I may not love that I have to accompany my teenage daughter every single time she gets behind the wheel of a car until she gets her license. But I can have the foresight that when she does, I’m going to miss the hours we got to spend one-on-one in the car during those critical teenage years.
Planning birthday parties for my ten-year-old may tax my creativity (and wallet) but I may miss the day that she valued my input on her activities.
I may be exasperated that every waking hour encompasses meeting the needs of each of my five children but I will likely long for that sense of purpose behind my life and activities when those kiddos are up and out.
It’s good to look to the future with hope and anticipation. It’s also beneficial to recognize the possibility that our current circumstances are equally worthy of enjoyment. That in hindsight, we might actually miss the moments we are living right now.
But the question is, how?
Remember when you were almost due with your first child and all the older moms told you to “sleep when the baby sleeps”? I do. You know what’s great about sleeping when the baby sleeps (within reason, because, as we all know, it isn’t realistic to sleep 15 plus hours a day)? You can give your best, well-rested self to your child during their waking hours. And you’ll enjoy each moment a lot more when you’re not constantly nodding off during play time. Try napping when your kid does. It might surprise you how much your life and energy improve.
When my babes were little, a more experienced mom told me that at the end of every night, she would sneak into her kids’ bedrooms and watch them sleep for a moment. Let’s face it, kids are adorable when they sleep. The sight of their angelic little faces reawakens that sense of love and gratitude for the opportunity to be their mother, despite the challenges of the day. Try it out.
Write it down. I started a blog when my oldest was four years old (I had three kids at the time). Had I not, I would never remember that she had asked me to rename her “Cinderella”. Or that her younger sister had swallowed a penny. I certainly wouldn’t remember that all of my children managed to climb out on the roof one night. Scratch that. You don’t forget stuff like that. Point is, reading about those early parenting days is a whole lot more enjoyable than living them. So keep a record.
“They grow up SO fast.” The old ladies are right. So let’s quit rolling our eyes and enjoy those little ones.
