On being a mom
When I was younger mom, I never thought I would make it through those years of cookie crumbs in the carpet, sticky smudges on the windows, and overall chaos. Cut up hot dogs for lunch and sippy cups stacked high in the cupboard. All I wanted to do at times was to read my new book, but instead, a copy of Little Bear or Frances was thrust into my hands, along with a wiggly body climbing into my lap. The wiggliness soon left as they melted into blissful sleep, their limbs going slack in my arms.
Some days, I wish I could go back.
To gather their warm bodies on my lap and know with a kiss and a hug things are OK. To kiss a scrape or bleeding wound while they howl like a wolf – and to pat their behinds and tell them it’s not that bad. Now it’s a race through life. I have one in college, and the other two moving through high school like a blur. One will get their driver’s license in June and the other starts driving this November.
When did I get to this stage? How quickly did it move from temper tantrums and Barney, to college tuition and high school dances? I don’t remember the time slipping away so rapidly. I went about each day, my cares put toward what they needed and when. I can see the years move through my mind, as I’m sure my mom can too, that these days go by all too quickly.
For those of you who don’t think you can make it through one more day of toys all over the floor and finding cereal in odd places, I would just say this. Hold them tightly, then let go. Breathe in the warm scent of their baby cheeks and necks, for all too soon these days you thought you’d never get through will be gone.
You will be watching them drive away on their first date, or working hard to get through Spanish class. Every now and then my kids will throw themselves on the couch and say, “Hey mom, what’s up?” We’ll talk, and I’ll ask about their day. The life of a teenager is never dull.
Daily, I get a call or numerous texts from Florida where my daughter attends college in West Palm Beach. That adult 20-something voice holding just a twinge of “Mom, what should I do?” then disappearing just as quickly as it arrived. I’m glad we are close – it would be a killer not to know the ins and outs of their lives.
There are days I wouldn’t claim them as my own for the way they act. Then there are the days that I know they will make it – that they will grow up to be exactly who they are supposed to be. I love being a mom. All the joys and the sorrows mesh together into a heated jumble. Thankfulness – that’s what I feel knowing God saw fit to bless me with three crazy children.
“Grown don't mean nothing to a mother. A child is a child. They get bigger, older, but grown? What's that suppose to mean? In my heart it don't mean a thing.” ~Toni Morrison, Beloved, 1987