Gosh! It has been a while since I last posted; almost three months! Actually, I have come back to my Blogger "dashboard" several times with the intention of writing a new post, but LIFE has gotten in the way each time.
How do I define LIFE, my LIFE? That is actually a very complicated question which requires a fairly long answer, but if you are willing to read along, then I will try my best to answer it!
When I was pregnant with my first baby (15 years ago!), my mother gave me a "Mother's Journal" as a shower gift. It was a beautifully illustrated, hardcover book with blank, lined pages. Those blank pages were pretty daunting, and the book just sat on my bedroom nightstand for a month. Then, one day when I was one week away from my due date, I was moved to write a "letter" to my unborn baby. As I look back at the letter, I can feel the worry and exhaustion I was feeling at that point. But, even more evident is my excitement and happy impatience at becoming a mother for the first time and discovering just "who" that little person was inside of me. One part stands out, in particular: "Who are you, Little Baby? I cannot wait to meet you, and find out if you are a boy or a girl! I cannot wait to smell your sweet head and cuddle you close to me! WHEN are you going to be born?!?".
Can you tell that I was at the end of a very long pregnancy?
Then, my son was born and I was swept away in a whirlwind of diaper-changing, breastfeeding, swaddling, and laundry. The Mother's Journal lay untouched, again, for months. Until, one day it occurred to me that many years down the road, after my passing, my children might find my journal and wonder, "Did Mom not care about being a mother at all? Could she not just write a few lines every now and then, to record her feelings?". OK, I realize that that is a bit melodramatic, but it's completely true. So, it was then that I decided that I would (very) periodically update my Mother's Journal with short, positive glimpses into my daily life as a mother.
Looking back, I think I was a sweet, romantic little lunatic.
When my oldest was eight months old, I started off my "updating" my telling him how much I loved him and loved being his mother, and then I gave an "accounting" of what he and I did on a typical day. If you want a good idea of how flippin' easy it is to take care of one child, you should read that entry:
"-We wake up every day at 7:30 and I nurse you in bed for a little while.
-Then, we make our way to the kitchen and I fix my breakfast and give you some applesauce.
-After we are finished eating, I give you your bath and we splash and have fun.
-Next, we take Mommy's book to the rocking chair where I nurse you to sleep for your morning nap, and I read for a while.
-When you wake up, Mommy puts you in your stroller, pushes you into the bathroom, and you play with your toy while I shower.
-We both finish getting ready for the day, and we decide what we are going to do while we eat lunch together."
The entry goes on and on like that, ending in, "Then, you, Mommy, and Daddy all lie down together to fall asleep.". Yah. What the heck was I complaining about back then???
At one point I would have been embarrassed to admit the fact the the next entry in my Journal did not occur until seven months after the birth of my third child, but, as you can see I had a very rigid schedule of eating, napping, reading, and showering for all those years, so I couldn't be bothered with writing it all down.
My entry, at that time, was also a bullet-pointed listing of my daily schedule, but it looked somewhat different than my daily schedule with just one baby. At that point, I had two kids in school, a baby, and a dog:
"-We all wake up with Daddy at 6:30, and Mommy tries to nurse the baby while Daddy helps her find everyone's clothes for the day.
-After we eat breakfast, Daddy leaves for work and we keep getting ready for school.
-Mommy helps the 2-yr-old go potty, while the 5-yr-old gets dressed and takes his lunchbox out of the fridge.
-After Mommy and Baby drop off the big brothers at school, they come back home to nurse and take a nap."
Yes. Still napping and nursing. Kind of became a theme, as well as a goal, of mine.
It was after reading this entry, and a very similar one written after baby #4's arrival, that I realized that I was making my life as a mother sound idyllic and pampered. While trying to remain positive about motherhood, I had not given an authentic accounting of what it is like to be a mother. I suspect that I was trying to make up for all those not-so-perfect-mommy-moments, by re-writing them; all in the hope of my children reading these entries in their adulthood, and thinking, "goshdarnitall, she was a great mom! How she loved us and sacrificed for us, enjoying it all the while!". I am a nut.
Enter the Digital Age and the advent of blogging!
I guess this blog is my mea culpa
So, LIFE is insane, busy, sticky, hilarious, distracted, messy, prayerful, desperate, fun, exciting, and... REAL. My LIFE is my vocation as a mother, my path to my Eternal Treasure. While I bemoan all the little inconveniences almost daily, I truly love that my LIFE is also the truest definition of who I am. I wouldn't re-write any part of it, no matter what.
Why, yes, I AM crazy. Thank you for asking!
Showing posts with label motherhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label motherhood. Show all posts
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Friday, October 24, 2008
High School Looming...
I will be the very first person to admit that I am no sentimentalist.
Never have been.
And, while you could never accuse me of being emotionally "cold", I'm not a "hugger-type". I guess, "reserved" and/or "guarded" would be better adjectives used to describe my "emotional climate", along with a "loud" and "sarcastic".
That is why I was so taken aback by my reaction at the prospect of my oldest child starting high school next year. It was the first time, ever, in my history of parenting that I felt like yelling, "STOP! Slow down! Don't grow so fast!". I feel like, all of a sudden, I can't catch my breath. I am watching my oldest child take his first real wading steps into adulthood, and I'm (for once!) speechless as to how we got here so quickly. I am becoming (gasp!) nostalgic!
Maybe it's because I can clearly remember his birth, his first year of life, his first loose tooth, his first encounter with a bully, his first time holding his new baby brother. Truly, the quote from the Gospel of St. Luke, "His Mother kept all these things in her heart...", speaks to me with an even more bittersweet tone lately.
Because, that's what we mothers do: we mentally record every special moment in each of our child's lives and then carefully etch it into our hearts. We can't help it, it happens automatically. It's as if the day we became a mother to each of our children, along with gaining a bigger heart we also gained a whole new set of tools to make this child a permanent part of our lives, our "makeup". Sometimes it feels as though the transfer of DNA went both ways.
And, now I find myself realizing how many things from my son's first thirteen years are now a part of me, of who I am:
He holds the distinction of being the child who "created" my motherhood.
Through his very steady newborn gaze and innocent, toothless grin, I caught a breathtaking glimpse of the purity of God's love for us.
When he had a particularly difficult day (or year!) at school, I learned how to use his inborn strengths to buoy him and how to change his weaknesses in to learned strengths that made him special. What was left of my selfishness from my "pre-kids" days was replaced with a new selfless maturity.
As he grows more independent, I learn how truly strong he is, and how he can surprise me with his level-headed maturity.
As my son and I continue to grow and mature together, I am beginning to feel slightly more confident that we are both ready for his high school years. In all the big and small things he does, I can see his self-confidence increasing exponentially. On some days, his maturity floors me. I'm sure the stubborn vestiges of nervousness that I feel stem from the fact that I can clearly remember my own high school years, and I worry that my husband and I have not prepared my son enough.
Will my son make mistakes? Stumble along the way? I am sure he will.
So, too, will I err and lose my footing.
Hopefully, these will become opportunities for both of us to grow as individuals, to grow as a "consultant-client" team (replacing the "manager-employee" model), and grow closer to God.
For the most part, I have truly enjoyed this journey of motherhood. It's the education I never expected (and without a paper degree!). It comes at an enormous "price" (some years are more "costly" than others), but the rewards are (hopefully!) eternal. My "major" always remains the same, the courses are constantly changing, but only as I need to learn new things. So, high school doesn't really scare me; I may just need to sit in on a few "labs".
Oh, and the professors at my University of Motherhood? They are absolutely DARLING!
Never have been.
And, while you could never accuse me of being emotionally "cold", I'm not a "hugger-type". I guess, "reserved" and/or "guarded" would be better adjectives used to describe my "emotional climate", along with a "loud" and "sarcastic".
That is why I was so taken aback by my reaction at the prospect of my oldest child starting high school next year. It was the first time, ever, in my history of parenting that I felt like yelling, "STOP! Slow down! Don't grow so fast!". I feel like, all of a sudden, I can't catch my breath. I am watching my oldest child take his first real wading steps into adulthood, and I'm (for once!) speechless as to how we got here so quickly. I am becoming (gasp!) nostalgic!
Maybe it's because I can clearly remember his birth, his first year of life, his first loose tooth, his first encounter with a bully, his first time holding his new baby brother. Truly, the quote from the Gospel of St. Luke, "His Mother kept all these things in her heart...", speaks to me with an even more bittersweet tone lately.
Because, that's what we mothers do: we mentally record every special moment in each of our child's lives and then carefully etch it into our hearts. We can't help it, it happens automatically. It's as if the day we became a mother to each of our children, along with gaining a bigger heart we also gained a whole new set of tools to make this child a permanent part of our lives, our "makeup". Sometimes it feels as though the transfer of DNA went both ways.
And, now I find myself realizing how many things from my son's first thirteen years are now a part of me, of who I am:
He holds the distinction of being the child who "created" my motherhood.
Through his very steady newborn gaze and innocent, toothless grin, I caught a breathtaking glimpse of the purity of God's love for us.
When he had a particularly difficult day (or year!) at school, I learned how to use his inborn strengths to buoy him and how to change his weaknesses in to learned strengths that made him special. What was left of my selfishness from my "pre-kids" days was replaced with a new selfless maturity.
As he grows more independent, I learn how truly strong he is, and how he can surprise me with his level-headed maturity.
As my son and I continue to grow and mature together, I am beginning to feel slightly more confident that we are both ready for his high school years. In all the big and small things he does, I can see his self-confidence increasing exponentially. On some days, his maturity floors me. I'm sure the stubborn vestiges of nervousness that I feel stem from the fact that I can clearly remember my own high school years, and I worry that my husband and I have not prepared my son enough.
Will my son make mistakes? Stumble along the way? I am sure he will.
So, too, will I err and lose my footing.
Hopefully, these will become opportunities for both of us to grow as individuals, to grow as a "consultant-client" team (replacing the "manager-employee" model), and grow closer to God.
For the most part, I have truly enjoyed this journey of motherhood. It's the education I never expected (and without a paper degree!). It comes at an enormous "price" (some years are more "costly" than others), but the rewards are (hopefully!) eternal. My "major" always remains the same, the courses are constantly changing, but only as I need to learn new things. So, high school doesn't really scare me; I may just need to sit in on a few "labs".
Oh, and the professors at my University of Motherhood? They are absolutely DARLING!
Monday, August 18, 2008
Why the title?
As a mother of 6 children (5 on Earth, 1 in Heaven), I often get asked, "HOW many kids do you have? Are you CRAZY?".
Duh. Isn't the answer obvious?
I'd HAVE to be a little insane in order to become a mother at all.
For me, being pregnant means 12 weeks of nausea and vomiting, hibernation due to extreme exhaustion, mood swings like you wouldn't believe, and (my personal favorite) weight gain. Who in their right minds would sign on for this, even ONCE?!?
And then, there is labor and birth. My first child was a 57-hour labor during which I pushed for the last 7 hours (yes, you read that correctly), and still ended up with a c-section. Note to newly pregnant women: do NOT think that peanut butter on everything will EVER result in a small baby. And still, I proceeded to welcome more children into my life.
Still think any woman who has even 1 child is sane? Need more convincing? Read on...
By most people's standards, I've been very lucky with my newborns. Only one baby has ever been colicky. Of course, he re-defined the word "colic", but still...
Even a good baby requires many diaper changes, many hours spent breastfeeding (if you breastfeed), and miles of walking, bouncing, and swaying. Oh wait... did I mention laundry? Apparently, newborns and Dreft have a standard agreement in which the newborns promise to soil as many clothes and linens as is humanly possible, in exchange for their own laundry detergent which costs more than regular laundry detergent.
Toddlers. Gotta love 'em. No, I mean it. You are literally REQUIRED to love them so that you won't harm them out of frustration. Hence, the chubby cheeks and little lisps. And, I DO love them.. generally, while they are sweetly sleeping in my arms.
Relax! I'm kidding!
But, the little stinkers are very labor-intensive. Chasing them, potty-training (a whole separate post!), feeding them umpteen times each day, playing the same games over and over (ditto on books. songs, etc), having them hang off your legs while you cook. The list is endless.
Got the straight-jacket ready yet? No? Let me try to sum up the rest ASAP.
Preschoolers: they are craft-crazy. They seem to crave playdoh, crayons, paints, etc. Basically, anything that prevents cleanliness.
Of course, by this age they have learned how to press more than the buttons on the TV and your cell-phone; they have learned how to press all of your "buttons". There is nothing like a 4-year-old who purposely hides your car keys every morning just to see you spin out of control. Precious.
School-age: "Mom, where do we keep the milk?" "Mom, Janie-Sue* is eating old cereal she found in the couch, and she won't give me ANY!" "Why can't I vacuum the dog's fur right off her body? That way I won't have to sweep." That's just the tip of the iceberg, my friends.
I haven't even mentioned explaining the birds and the bees (especially fun when they bring their friends along!), last-minute bake sale requests, begging/threatening them to clean up guinea pig cages/dog poop, and mediating disputes over dirty socks. (My father was right! Kids really will argue over spit on a doorknob!)
Now, my experience goes as far as a thirteen-year-old son, so I cannot (yet) speak to dating, high school drama, helping with calculus homework, or (cringe) driving. But, I'm sure it can't help restore any sanity that I might have once possessed.
So, here we are. I MUST be crazy because I signed on for this challenge/honor more than once, right?
Yup.
But, it's a craziness that breeds warmth, love, compassion, humility, laughter, funny stories, and a deeper connection with my husband and God (a real necessity in my profession!). In what other capacity can you obtain all of these attributes on any given day?
Of course, I'm crazy, so what do I know? I guess I'll have to plead "guilty by reason of insanity"... GLADLY!
*Names have been changed to protect the innocent.
Duh. Isn't the answer obvious?
I'd HAVE to be a little insane in order to become a mother at all.
For me, being pregnant means 12 weeks of nausea and vomiting, hibernation due to extreme exhaustion, mood swings like you wouldn't believe, and (my personal favorite) weight gain. Who in their right minds would sign on for this, even ONCE?!?
And then, there is labor and birth. My first child was a 57-hour labor during which I pushed for the last 7 hours (yes, you read that correctly), and still ended up with a c-section. Note to newly pregnant women: do NOT think that peanut butter on everything will EVER result in a small baby. And still, I proceeded to welcome more children into my life.
Still think any woman who has even 1 child is sane? Need more convincing? Read on...
By most people's standards, I've been very lucky with my newborns. Only one baby has ever been colicky. Of course, he re-defined the word "colic", but still...
Even a good baby requires many diaper changes, many hours spent breastfeeding (if you breastfeed), and miles of walking, bouncing, and swaying. Oh wait... did I mention laundry? Apparently, newborns and Dreft have a standard agreement in which the newborns promise to soil as many clothes and linens as is humanly possible, in exchange for their own laundry detergent which costs more than regular laundry detergent.
Toddlers. Gotta love 'em. No, I mean it. You are literally REQUIRED to love them so that you won't harm them out of frustration. Hence, the chubby cheeks and little lisps. And, I DO love them.. generally, while they are sweetly sleeping in my arms.
Relax! I'm kidding!
But, the little stinkers are very labor-intensive. Chasing them, potty-training (a whole separate post!), feeding them umpteen times each day, playing the same games over and over (ditto on books. songs, etc), having them hang off your legs while you cook. The list is endless.
Got the straight-jacket ready yet? No? Let me try to sum up the rest ASAP.
Preschoolers: they are craft-crazy. They seem to crave playdoh, crayons, paints, etc. Basically, anything that prevents cleanliness.
Of course, by this age they have learned how to press more than the buttons on the TV and your cell-phone; they have learned how to press all of your "buttons". There is nothing like a 4-year-old who purposely hides your car keys every morning just to see you spin out of control. Precious.
School-age: "Mom, where do we keep the milk?" "Mom, Janie-Sue* is eating old cereal she found in the couch, and she won't give me ANY!" "Why can't I vacuum the dog's fur right off her body? That way I won't have to sweep." That's just the tip of the iceberg, my friends.
I haven't even mentioned explaining the birds and the bees (especially fun when they bring their friends along!), last-minute bake sale requests, begging/threatening them to clean up guinea pig cages/dog poop, and mediating disputes over dirty socks. (My father was right! Kids really will argue over spit on a doorknob!)
Now, my experience goes as far as a thirteen-year-old son, so I cannot (yet) speak to dating, high school drama, helping with calculus homework, or (cringe) driving. But, I'm sure it can't help restore any sanity that I might have once possessed.
So, here we are. I MUST be crazy because I signed on for this challenge/honor more than once, right?
Yup.
But, it's a craziness that breeds warmth, love, compassion, humility, laughter, funny stories, and a deeper connection with my husband and God (a real necessity in my profession!). In what other capacity can you obtain all of these attributes on any given day?
Of course, I'm crazy, so what do I know? I guess I'll have to plead "guilty by reason of insanity"... GLADLY!
*Names have been changed to protect the innocent.
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