Well, since we were traveling on the official mother’s day (Chris’s reason) and because the first person to say “Happy Mother’s Day” to me on that official day was the customs agent at the ferry terminal…AHEM…ahem…(the guilt reason), we had a mother’s day redo this weekend. It was perfect. While I was out running the boys created masterpieces for me, the pancake master worked his magic with a new recipe, and when I returned home soaked through with rain there was a warm cup of coffee waiting for me.
This Mother’s Day has me thinking about motherhood. It is by far the coolest thing I have done. It has also been the most frustrating, demanding and tiring thing I have ever done. I love it. Even the days where these two boys get the best of me, I wouldn’t change any of it.
I have got the best gig- these boys, I get to raise them. I get to be their mother. It is awesome. I get called “Mama” 27,000 times a day- sometimes, yes, that gets old, but when I think about how a few short years ago there was no one calling me that- they can call for me 27,000 more times a day. I worry about everything with them- I worry about the food they eat, the education they will get, the mean people they will meet in the world. I want to shelter them from all the nastiest that goes on out there. I know I can’t- that is the hardest part. I could burst into tears when I think that someone, someday will hurt one of these boy’s feelings. Gosh, how do mother’s do it?
I can’t get enough watching these boys stomp in puddles, taste dirt, and slide down slides. I can’t get over the fact that Henry is learning to write letters- what he is interested in learning blows my mind. I can’t get over the fact that Bennett runs after his brother, and, for the most part, can keep up. I love that they love to read, I love those cute buns plopping in my lap for a story. I love the morning and naptime snuggles. I love rocking them to sleep.
This year has, by far, been the toughest year as a mother. Introducing a new one into our family dynamic and learning what it is like to be a toddler AND a big brother- we have had rough patches, we will have more. Learning new personalities, new wants, new freedoms- we have rolled with most of it. Sometimes, we have been steamrolled. I have figured out what works, what doesn’t (and I know that what works now, will not next week). I have figured out that this is what I am meant to do. I have never felt more at peace with life, more fulfilled, more challenged.
Someday, in the not to distant future, these boys will be off, not needing Mama as much as they do now and this is what gets me through. To know that it is flying by- my time with them- and when they are off doing their thing, I will then, do something too, something different than what I am doing now. But, I will cherish these days, these moments when we don’t leave the house, don’t change out of sweatpants, barely get off the couch because there is so much to read and those times where Dada is called, just so he can hear the screaming (all of ours). And, who can forget that Dada, the one that puts us all back together.
The Dada who comes home from work to children flying into his arms and don’t let go until they have drifted off to sleep. The Dada who rocks babies and toddlers in the middle of the night. The Dada who offers a shoulder to cry on, or to wipe snot. This Dada allows me to be the mother that I want to be, because of him, we are a family.
And, because of him, we had Mother’s Day Redo, or, as he put it, a Mother’s Day just for me. Yeah, he is pretty good at smoothing over the whole, “I forgot it was Mother’s Day” thing- that guy can be pretty darn slick when he wants to be…