Motherhood

Motherhood

Mommy Stayed

September 9, 2017 by 5 Comments

Dear Child of Mine,

There are days when there doesn’t seem to be enough hours in the day and my “Mommy-Do” list continues to grow rather than shrink. The laundry needs to be folded, the kitchen table wiped down and dinner to be made. There are days when I hear myself saying “just one minute” or “hold on a second” more often than I would like. Trust me Baby, I would much rather watch you practice your somersault for the 156th time today than wipe up the spilled juice on the floor. On these days and through the years when you sometimes hear “just a minute”, I hope you grow to see that there were just as many, if not more, moments when Mommy stayed.

There were nights when I was exhausted, completely drained from the demands of the day. When I wanted nothing more but to fall into a heap on the couch, and watch mindless television. But you were having a hard time falling asleep, anxious about the new challenges of Kindergarten, so I stayed an extra ten minutes to cuddle. Softly running her fingers through your hair, whispering sweet “I love you’s” in your ear as you nodded off to sleep.   I knew that there was a mountain of laundry on the couch, waiting to be folded, but Mommy stayed.

 

There were days when I was stressed as I desperately tried to find the balance between career and motherhood. There were mornings when I could barely get myself dressed in time before heading to the office when suddenly your tummy began to ache and your temperature began to climb. All patients were rescheduled, all meetings were postponed and all messages redirected, because you needed me at home. So, Mommy stayed.

Through the defiant and stubborn preschooler years you tested all boundaries; deliberately crossing every line drawn, curious to discover what, if any, repercussions awaited you. Day after day you would literally and figuratively push me, trying to see how far you could make me go. But because I love you, I stood firm and Mommy stayed.

When you were a feisty toddler you were completely capable of sleeping through the night; you simply made it clear that you did not want to.   And as you sat in your crib, crying to get up and play, I knew you needed your sleep. And even though you didn’t see me, on the other side of the closed door, with tear stained cheeks and aching to pick up my baby, Mommy stayed.

On your first day of pre-school you hugged my legs tightly. My enthusiastic and charismatic little one suddenly transformed into a shy and quiet babe; uneasy about the new world around her. So we sat cross-legged on the story time rug together and on your first day of pre-school, Mommy stayed.

But on your first day of Kindergarten you were no longer frightened. With your backpack slung over your tiny shoulders, you marched confidently into the building, looking back only once to blow a kiss and wave proudly. You didn’t ask me to stay, undoubtedly because you were now a Big Kid. You were no longer sad or scared.

On the first day of pre-school mommy stayed because you were scared.

On your first day of Kindergarten (in the back of the parking lot) mommy stayed because I was sad and scared.

That’s the thing about Mommas. Whether you ask them to or not, they stay with you.

My Child, I hope you remember that your mommy stayed. Not for the recognition or appreciation, but because I want you to know that I will always stay.

My love for you is wherever you are.

Nothing you do, nothing you say, can make me leave.

You can’t lose me.

That’s the thing about a Momma’s love; it always stays.

Motherhood

Today is Yesterday’s Someday

July 27, 2014 by 2 Comments
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I walked around the house today, grumbling under my breath about the mess. I picked up discarded sippy cups and empty fruit snack wrappers. I tossed Barbie dolls and Little People into the playroom bins. I tripped on an abandoned Pillowracer and cursed (loudly) when I landed on a forgotten matchbox car.

I found myself thinking back to the days in our tiny apartment, our first home as married couple, all 500 square feet of it.  We rarely had house guests and we always had a pile of dishes in the sink. It was messy, but it was our mess. If a cup was left on the living room hand-me-down coffee table when I left for class in the morning, it would be there waiting for me when I came home. If I left my clothes on a pile on the floor at night, there was no questioning when I returned a day later if it was dirty or not.
And at night I would lay awake next to my new husband and I would dream about what ‘someday’ would look like.

Someday I would have a yard instead of a balcony overlooking a parking lot.
Someday I would have a kitchen large enough to fit a kitchen table and chairs.
Someday we would have baby toys littering our living room floor.

Today is yesterday’s someday.

And yet somehow in the past five years, while I’ve been busy raising babies, I’ve neglected to soak up all of the things I so desperately wanted just a few short years ago when I dreamed of having babies. These little details make our house into a home where my children will grow too quickly and will hopefully remember laughter and love instead of clean floors and de-cluttered countertops.

These are the areas of my home I tend to overlook, but the areas I will inevitably miss five, ten, twenty years from now. These are the areas of my home I need to stop, stare and soak up…. while I still can.

 Art Work: I adore my children’s love for drawing, coloring and creating and I try my best to display their artwork, allowing for adequate “oohs”, “ahhs” and “what a beautiful drawing’s.” It’s beautiful to watch not only their skills develop (coloring inside the lines, writing legible letters) but also the concepts in their artwork and how they perceive the world around them.

The Crayons: Oh the crayons… and coloring books… and ripped-out-half-colored pages that they insist are incredibly special and must be saved for-ev-er. They litter the table (and kitchen floor).  Before breakfast, lunch and dinner the table must be cleared of the coloring madness that preceded it and at least four times a day I am asked “Mommy, can I color?” 

And the little hands that so desperately want to reach them…

Drop-Space:  It’s often a space associated with the stress of leaving the house as we put on shoes, grab bags, put on jackets/hats, then change shoes that are “too tight.” But it’s also the space we return home to at the end of the day; where we kick off our shoes and lighten the load we have been carrying on our shoulders all day. It’s where kisses are given and little arms are thrown around our legs to welcome us home.

 Shoe Bucket: The space in our home where shoes are meant to be kept, but pairs are only occasionally found.  Currently 10-12 pairs of (mismatched) shoes live in this plastic bin. In a matter of a few short years I will unlikely be able to fit three pairs of shoes in the same bin as my babies (and their feet) continue to grow. It also serves as a playground for a little boy who loves to empty, throw, sort and refill everything and anything.

Laundry: While I can’t say I anticipate missing laundry, I will certainly miss the small dresses, onsies and DocMcStuffins/Frozen/Ninja Turtle T-shirts that serve as a they-are-still-little reminder. Someday (there it is again, that pesky “someday”) they will do their own laundry (God willing) and their T-shirts will bear the names of brands and bands I will likely not understand.

Teeny Tiny Silverware: We never have enough forks. Actually, that’s not true. We never have enough of the right forks. Some one wants the pink one, when all we have left are green and purple, someone wants ‘that one I used yesterday’ when I have no idea which freakin’ fork she’s talking about.  But these little forks belong in the hands of tiny people and serve as another reminder that my children are just that, little.

A Cluttered Fridge: With daily schedules (to ensure that babysitters, daddy and mommy are all on the same page), babysitter notes, house rules (to ensure little ones know what is appropriate and what is not), and artwork hung by proud artists (and their mommy).

Messy Playroom:  I used to dream of having a playroom for my children; a place where they would spend hours playing Candyland, rock baby dolls to sleep and where Tonka trucks would leave tire tracks on the carpet.  Well, this happens occasionally, but frankly I am convinced my children think the ‘playroom’ is simply an extra large walk-in closet that houses all of their toys before they drag them out into the living room. But as my littles grow, their toys will eventually be boxed up, donated, or sold and dolls and trucks will be replaced by cellphones and electronics and my messy playroom will be no longer.

I have many ‘somedays’ in my future.
Someday I’ll sit in the stands and watch my son score a goal.
Someday I’ll help my daughters dress for their Senior Prom.
Someday I’ll hold my daughter as she cries over her first broken heart.
Someday I’ll teach my son how to drive. 
Someday I’ll watch my daughter receive her college degree. 
Someday I’ll listen to my son speak with overwhelming love of the woman he hopes to marry. 
Someday I’ll watch my daughters become mommies.

But for now, today is yesterday’s someday and I have a yard for my babies to play, I have a kitchen where we share family meals, and I have a living room with toys strewn about.
And today, I will try to appreciate them all.
Because someday they will be a memory.
Where are the areas in your home that you overlook today, but will ultimately miss someday?

Motherhood

Kindergarten Orientation: A Daddy’s Notes

May 25, 2014 by 1 Comment
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When it comes to my children, I am a control freak.  I would much rather be the parent that deals with the meetings, appointments, and conferences despite the added pressure and stress that it may bring. It’s not that I don’t trust my husband, because I do.
He is more than capable to take three children to the pediatrician…. He just doesn’t always remember to ask the right questions. Should we be concerned about Lily’s frequent leg pain? Is Charley drinking too much juice? Is Xander getting a molar?
He is more than willing to go to parent-teacher conferences…. He just doesn’t always remember the details of what the teacher discussed.
“She said Lily is great.”
“Great in what?”
“Everything.”
“What about her letters? Her writing? Her listening skills?”
“Uhhh, they’re good.”
(Thanks Honey. Super helpful.)
And he offered to attend the first Parent-Only Kindergarten Orientation. Typically, in our household this would be classified as a ‘Both parent” or “Mommy” meeting, but after much consideration and an exceptionally long day at the office, I welcomed the idea of sending him to the meeting, allowing me to stay home and relax cook dinner/play with the kids/start the bedtime routine.
But it was not without pleading.
“Make sure to turn in these sheets for registration. This is her immunization record, this is her emergency contact form, this is a copy of our mortgage statement. If you forget, she won’t be registered. “
(Side note: Seriously? I filled out more forms signing my child up for Kindergarten than I did when I applied to grad school and our marriage license.)
“Please promise to pay attention. I need specific details. About everything; buses, lunches, teachers, recess. Ev-er-y-thing.”
I nearly burned myself on the macaroni and cheese pan simmering on the stove when I saw him grab a notebook and pen before heading out the door.
Good Lord, is he going to take notes?
Oh yes friends. He took notes…
When he returned home a few hours later, he proudly relayed the wealth of knowledge that he gained from attending the orientation and presented me with his “notes.”  You know, to keep for future reference.
For instance, I now know that next year, Lily will have a Spanish class… and my husband does not particularly agree with this curriculum.

(I also know that at 7:07pm my husband’s ass became numb)

I know that at some point during the orientation, my husband received information regarding the bus system.  Kindergarteners will be paired with older children and walked to their buses daily, Kindergarteners will sit in the front of the bus and on the first day of school, it is encouraged that you allow your child to ride the bus rather than drive them yourself. 
(And my husband does not approve of the head of transportation’s fashion sense.)

As if I wasn’t frustrated annoyed overwhelmed enough with the amount of material to be covered during the Kindergarten year, I know that by the end of Kindergarten  my child will be expected to write sentences, read at a “D level” (what the hell is that?), identify 2D and 3D shapes and perform basic mathematical equations.

(I also know that my husband does not believe in the “there is no such thing as a stupid question” mentality and does not appreciate braggy parents or iPhone interruptions.)

He was also kind enough to rank the Kindergarten teachers. Not by order of experience, kindness or finger-painting abilities, but by hotness. I didn’t photograph the rankings, but trust me when I say, this actually happened.

Most importantly, I learned that I need to give my husband more credit. The man is more than capable of attending such functions, provided much useful information as well as wonderful commentary along the way. 
And thankfully there is another Kindergarten orientation in August….
…That we both will be attending.



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