my nest
April 8, 2011 § Leave a comment
The kitchen was filled with the smell of banana bread and my countertops were a glorious disaster of baking, painting, and paper mache. Indoor adventures unfolding on a whim and with little regard for order my nest was a mess, but my home felt in order.
My children’s focus wrapped around a project, they unravel their thoughts and I am lost to their company. When they were babies I would marvel at their sleeping form and wait for them to wake, eager for their joyful smiles and wide-eyed wonderment. As they have grown, school day routines have replaced the reasonless rhythm of chance discoveries on impulsive explorations as we move through our mornings in a frantic effort to fall in to order.
Visiting with my children, as they molded creations with paint stained fingers tangled in sticky strips of colorful paper, I wished there were more time to play.
complicated
April 6, 2011 § Leave a comment
My son and I were sitting together, absorbing a quiet moment, when breaking the silence he looked at me and said, “I’m complicated.” Then, without pause he smiled a lopsided grin, dimples and all, reminding me of our early days together when he was a newborn. From the beginning, he was a quiet spirit with large, brown eyes that seemed wise and joyful with long, gangly limbs that dangled at endearingly, lazy angles. We have grown together, he has been a constant companion as I have journeyed through Motherhood. Patient with my fumbles and forgiving of my faults, I look at him with pride for who he is and gratitude that he is a part of my every day. For me, it isn’t complicated at all.
off the map
April 4, 2011 § 2 Comments
I wandered into Motherhood without a map. Stranded between strangers, mothers rating and debating the value of various extra curricular activities and academic accomplishment, I feel lost. I turn to my inner compass trying to find my way.
I have felt lost before, when my first child was born. Facts, stats, and opinions shared freely under the guise of good intentions. Sleeping, eating, and dressing became subjects strangers, friends, and family would passionately advice me. Breast or bottle; sleep schedule or attachment parenting; fabric or disposable diapers; vaccinations and school registrations were common daily dialogues.
As my children have grown, I am cautious of parents climbing eagerly over the difficult terrain of perfection. I am finding my way, struggling to remain mindful of the world around me while not wanting to let others chart my path. I wonder, is there a map?
two wheels
April 2, 2011 § Leave a comment
Each summer my son faced his bike like a comic strip superhero disdainfully surveying an arch nemesis, his gleaming unmarred bike mocking him from the shadows of our garage. My confident, resourceful son was rendered powerless on two wheels. With each failed lesson he would slowly spiral into anger, frustration, insecurity and fear; tears and temper sabotaging his efforts, he evaded the childhood milestone of riding a bike.
Today, on a beautiful Spring day, he found his way on two wheels in the company of a friend. I marveled at this child’s ability to direct and encourage, acknowledge and accept my son’s progress with quiet compassion. I struggled to remain silent wanting to be present at the moment of accomplishment having so long been a companion on the journey. Together we stood in strength and my heart burst in soundless applause as my son faced his fear on two wheels.
bubbles
March 31, 2011 § Leave a comment
Waking to an unexpected family day I imagined museums and landmarks filling our free time together. Instead, my children trifled away an afternoon of leisure chasing bubbles with makeshift swords and rediscovering the outdoors that has slumbered these past months beneath a blanket of snow and ice. Understanding my children’s need to absorb the warm weather, I added bubbles to sunshine and we played. Unceremoniously, each of us picked up sticks and jabbed at rainbows tickling the air. This perfectly uneventful day will linger in my mind long after my children are grown, beautifully centered in togetherness.
ink
March 30, 2011 § 1 Comment
My daughter began writing journal entries, in ink. When I saw her pen, poised over paper, I panicked and scrounged for a pencil. My instinct was to guard her work from mistakes, provide second chances to do her best. I almost overlooked the value of simple spelling mistakes marking my daughter’s development in to a writer and the beauty of her free-flowing thoughts captured, unedited, permanently.
I often find myself wanting to shelter my children from the uncomfortable feelings of frustration or disappointment. With every attempt to prevent mistakes, my children find their way around me. Sometimes they dodge poor choices and occasionally they stumble into disappointment, but always with independence and adventure. My children seem determined to teach me that I cannot protect them from their own experiences, there must be moments of unerasable error.
extra time
March 28, 2011 § 1 Comment
I regularly scramble for extra time, reaching deep into the recess of my day for moments to spend; school day routines leaving little time between Good Morning and Good Night for indulgent moments of exploration. This year, when Spring vacation emptied my days of obligations, I made plans to spend my extra time on the little things that I casually set aside for Later and often get shuffled to Never.
We are tumbling into dreams long past bedtime, waking without abrasive alarms, and eating meals unrushed with extra helpings of chatter. Our schedules are empty of Must and sprinkled with Why Not. We are vacationing from Normal and nurturing our spirits with people, places, and things that are too often lost to routines.
Instead of packing our bags for warmer weather, we are loading into our car and navigating our way to familiar favorites. A store filled with miscellaneous nonsense promises hours of backyard adventures courtesy of healthy imaginations. We are building new lands out of Legos and baking banana bread to sustain us on our journeys. We are filling journal pages, marking moments in time with words.
Today, an unexpected invitation gifted my son time with a friend and I discovered stolen moments with my daughter. Normally pulled in two directions, I let my daughter lead me from one moment to the next. We painted pottery and polished her ten tiny pigs purple. Later, when her brother returned home, they swapped stories laced with satisfied smiles, happy for distractions that deviated from the predictable pattern of their days.
I catch myself looking ahead to the rest of our week, eager to explore and happy to hold tightly to our time together.
dirty secret
March 22, 2011 § Leave a comment
I schedule daily domestic duties for Tomorrow so that every morning I gain an extra day of procrastination, sweeping my deadline under the proverbial rug. When company becomes unavoidable I panic and throw myself, miserably, into a frantic effort to create the image of the life I plan to lead one day soon.
Today was Tomorrow. I flew through my home powered by caffeine and the threat my imperfect housekeeping habits would be revealed. The vacuum purred, the toilets sparkled, and I became a sweaty, nervous bundle of good intentions. By the time my company arrived my home felt eerily unlived in.
Moments after returning home from school my children created a ripple of clutter in the wake of my cleaning that seemed to balance the cleanliness with comfort. The misplaced shoe and trail of crayons seemed to scribble to anyone looking: Welcome, please be careful, Mom just cleaned.
retail therapy
March 21, 2011 § Leave a comment
My children host philosophical debates concerning the necessity of a new item. It began when my son was old enough to string thoughts into wishes, I would require he provide me three good reasons why the item in question was needed. I was trying to engage my son in practical exercises in logic, but often I found myself lost in a web of creative thinking. Bemused customers would sometimes follow us, smiling at the lengthy logic that would ensue.
This is where value rests, somewhere between wishes and needs. I have said for as long as my children would listen: If you have everything, there is nothing to wish for. Often I find wishing a greater indulgence than the luxury of having. Wishes are boundless.
I have my mother to thank for my sense of value. As a single mother juggling multiple jobs she overspent in an effort to provide my brother and I wishes fulfilled. My mother met each day with tireless endeavors to gift us sources of joy. I understood late the emptiness of things, but thankfully learned early enough to appreciate the value of my mother’s efforts. I carry my wishes like a list of reasons to dream and achieve. I remind my children that no does not always mean never, it sometimes means make a list, dream, and work hard. This is one of my greatest wishes for my children, for them to grasp their dreams and create a meaningful reality.
night owl
March 19, 2011 § Leave a comment
In the early morning hours, the persistent percussion of a cough interrupted my sleep. Adjusting my eyes to the dark, I followed the sound to my daughter’s room and prepared to trade sleep for the routine of pre-dawn adventures.
First, we took over my bedroom like pirates boarding a cargo ship. We pilfered through television shows and long forgotten movies then gathered supplies close settling in to rest in wakefulness. Crumpled kleenex and half-empty water bottles littered the floor, signs of a seasonal cold and unrest.
Sometimes this is when my children are most open, awake and restless they fill the quiet with stories and random thoughts. Through heavy eyelids I gather these moments in my children’s company remembering early mornings with them as newborns. Motherhood, unchartered adventures hidden among mundane moments, made extraordinary for my tiny companions.
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