Category: motherhood

Mother’s Day

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When they both wake up from their naps and their lids and limbs are still heavy with sleep, they crawl onto my lap and we rock until the world comes into focus.

To all the moms who protect us when we’re at our most vulnerable, and when we’re ready, send us out freely to tackle whatever project we have our sights set on, all the while waiting if we need to climb back into their protection once again.

This casting of love and faith sends our kids out a little further each time, but, fingers crossed, they will know they can always come back, that we will always be waiting, and eventually they will come back not because they need us—they will have learned to navigate the world on their own—but because they simply want to be with us.

Happy Mother’s Day.

Gratitude

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We’ve had a lot of snow, wind, rain, and general grayness going on in Northeast Ohio the past two weeks.

I’m impatient for the weather to turn. For the sun to stay and the breeze to shift from cold to warm.

When we’ve had a warm day pop up during the stay-at-home order, we’ve taken long walks through the neighborhood, gone on “nature walks” in the yard (the kids each carry a bucket and fill it with whatever they come across), played with chalk, rode bikes and cozy coupes, kicked a ball, dug for worms… we have filled hours of our day being outside. And we were all happier for it.

As the weather has kept us inside in addition to being at home, it’s been an active effort to shift to gratitude.

When you can’t control the circumstances of your life, it’s easy to focus on what is not going the you want it to: work is different, school won’t resume, you can’t go out to eat, to the library, to browse at a store, to meet a friend for coffee, to the gym… really, the goings-on of life have been put on hold and there are no distractions at the ready. We’re being forced to sit with these circumstances.

And in doing so, it is easier to feel trapped than thankful, to look at what’s wrong instead of what’s right, and to look inward at our unhappiness instead of outward with gratitude.

Make the effort. Look outward. Claim small victories. It may be cold, and snowing, and gray outside—you can’t control that. But, you can control where you shift your gaze, what you let your thoughts rest on. Choose the things that are going right.

Shout-out to a decent guy who picked up these tulips with an antibiotic prescription earlier this week. Gratitude.

Not now doesn’t mean not ever

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Raising a two-year-old and three-year-old, we talk a lot about patience in our house. Usually hourly. They want a juice box, the toy the other one is playing with, to watch a show. It’s not the commonplace things they have trouble waiting for, but those that are special, exciting. A treat.  

We talk about waiting our turn: “you will get it, but not yet.” We talk about asking nicely and not whining. And we expect that one day this will all click and we will no longer need to have these conversations. 

But last night I realized I probably need to be having these conversations with myself. 

Why do we expect toddlers to wait patiently when we still haven’t seemed to have mastered this skill as adults?

Sure, by the time we’re adults we’ve learned to wait for our food at restaurants, for our turn in line at the BMV, and even for the weekend–all of which are commonplace things. But what about the bigger items? Those that are special, exciting. A treat.

An essay I wrote was accepted for publication last month. Which was exciting at first but the longer I’ve had to wait to see it in print, the more restless I’ve become.  

This kind of impatience isn’t just contained to career. Some of us could be waiting on friendships, test results, perceived milestones for ourselves or our children, a home. 

In the face of rejection and silence it can be easy to believe that this is how it will always be—especially when the disappointments stack up. We forget, just because something isn’t happening right now, doesn’t mean it will never happen.

It’s usually the things that are special, the ones we want the most, that are the hardest to wait for. 

So, when the weight of another let down, missed opportunity, or heartbreak hits, do not be fooled. This is not how it will always be. Not now doesn’t mean not ever. There are more tomorrows ahead. Plenty will be filled with disappointments and rejections but plenty will also be filled with victories. 

Our turn is coming. It may not look how we initially thought it would, it may not come when we want it to. But it will come. We just have to be patient.

The sun will rise again

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Anyone else’s kiddos go full bore when both parents are home? Memorial Day weekend was a recipe for exhaustion with both of us home with the kids for three days. Throw in a gardening project, a birthday party, and lots of playing outside and we’ve got some tired toddlers on our hands.

In the midst of the meltdowns I’m reminding myself to soak in these joyful moments like we do the sun.

May we drink in the light and use it to fuel us through the darkness. May we remember all darkness is temporary. May we find comfort in knowing the sun will always rise again.

The tears won’t last forever but the memories made in between will. Hang on, parents of the tiny humans. Don’t stress if they sob. Scoop ‘em up, squeeze ‘em tight, and remember, sunshine isn’t far away.

Moms come in many forms

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mother's hand and child's hand linked with a garden in the background.

Moms come in many forms. You don’t have to grow a baby in your womb or nurse one at your breast to be a mom. If you’ve loved a child, supported a child, taught a child, coached a child, believed in a child, mentored a child, picked one up when they were down, wiped tears, wrapped band-aids around tiny fingers, lost sleep at night over their well-being, found yourself in tears because it has seemed impossible to be everything they need—and still managed to get it done, you’re a mom. If you’ve shown compassion, put your needs second to another’s, and loved unconditionally you’re a mom.

We step into many roles in our lives and the thing that makes “Mom” the easiest is also what makes it the hardest: there is nothing that matters more than your kids.

The greatest mark one can make is in the impact on another life. Our own laughter and tears are temporary but those shared with the next generations become stories that are told and retold, memories that defy time. It is through mothering, parenting, grandparenting, coaching, loving, caring, mentoring, and shaping the life of another, that our own presence becomes eternal.

Happy Mother’s Day to everyone who has loved a child.