Seriously Sweet

With two precious girls, there are some seriously sweet moments…those times when you feel like your cheeks ache from smiling, your heart melts from warmth, and your mind works on overdrive knowing that you want to remember every detail even when you don’t have a pen and paper close at hand. In the past few weeks, both Emma and Lily have given me plenty to remember.   

Emma, at 3 ½-years-old: • Emma is turning into a thoughtful, kind little girl. She asks questions about the world around her on a continual basis. She thinks of her baby sister often and likes to play doll house, grocery store, and Little People with her. She does get tired from our new preschool schedule and sometimes struggles to fulfill her daily chores (putting napkins on the table, clearing her dishes, making her bed, picking up her toys), but she is usually a good helper. She giggles more lately, and we enjoy seeing her learn to smile at more and more of life. • Recently, we had a fun-filled weekend that included a trip out to Grandpa and Grandma’s, time outside on the farm, two different restaurant outings (a favorite activity for Emma), new toys to play with at my aunt and uncle’s, and time with all four of her great-grandparents. After the weekend, as we were riding home, I asked Emma what her favorite part of the whole weekend was. She said, “Seeing Great-Grandma (W.)...her reading and reading to me.” With all of the excitement, her finest hour was spent snuggled up next to my grandma, doing exactly what I did when I was Emma’s age: listening in pure bliss as Grandma read her book after book. I felt so fortunate that my daughter could absorb how special that was, that she could enjoy something that meant so much to me when I was a girl, and that she still has great-grandparents that are able to spend time with her. • We had friends over to play, and Emma was putting together a puzzle with a four-year-old friend. The four-year-old friend, understandably, was getting a bit frustrated with Lily as she repeatedly wanted to get her hands on the puzzle pieces. Emma, the big sis, looked at her friend and patiently said, “She’s just a baby. She doesn’t know.” It was clear that Emma was defending her sister, offering up a compassionate explanation for little Lily’s behavior. I was touched by her grace and kindness. Then I moved Lily away from the puzzle for the third or fourth time. • Emma was playing ice cream shop with Grandpa and Grandma. She looked at each of them and asked, “Would you like a sundae or a Monday?” • A few days ago, Emma had preschool. After we picked her up from school, Grandpa and Grandma took us, Uncle Jason, and some old family friends out for lunch at Emma’s favorite restaurant. As we opened the door to the restaurant, Emma joyfully and incredulously remarked, “Wow! Preschool and The Machine Shed on the same day…what a lucky girl!” • We have heard the beginnings of outside influences in our home. Emma talks often about the friends at preschool. Recently, we’ve heard her say, “The other kids in the class…” and “E got her ears pierced. I would like to get my ears pierced” and “E doesn’t use a stool when she goes potty anymore. I don’t need to use a stool either.” It is interesting (and often makes us grin and only occasionally grimace) to hear all the things other three-year-olds are teaching her every day about life outside of our family’s “normal.” She has grown so much from preschool in confidence, experience, and social skills. She comes home singing all her colors in Spanish, spelling the color red in English, and sharing sweet songs about how God made her wonderful. We are thrilled to see her thrive there. • This summer, when Emma wanted to know someone’s name at the playground, she wasn’t sure how she should handle it. I role played with her what to say, but she was tentative about it. After she started preschool, she told me, “Don’t worry, Mommy. When I don’t know another kid’s name, I just say, ‘Hi, I’m Emma. What’s your name?’” It is exactly what I role played with her and had no idea she remembered from earlier this summer. The first day she brought a class picture home from school, she studiously practiced each child’s name, again and again, until she could easily identify each girl in her class. Next, she requested that I help her learn the boys. Now, she easily talks about the kids in her class by name. • The other night, I told Emma a sad story about how I let go of some balloons when I was a little girl, lost them forever into the air, and felt terribly because they were both mine and Uncle Jason’s balloons. She wanted to hear it again and again. After listening about the tear-filled tale, she said, “But Mommy, you were happy because Uncle Jason was there.” In Emma’s world-view, having the very cool Uncle Jason there should have made everything better. I love that she has extended family that is a consistent and positive part of her life. • Today, Emma came home from preschool with one of her most colorful, detailed coloring pages to date. As I pulled it out of her folder, she said, “That picture is for Daddy, for his birthday in October. Can you hide it away so he doesn’t see it? He can’t see it until October, and when it’s his birthday, I will show it to him.” How wonderful that she’s thinking about how to make her daddy’s birthday special! 

Lily, at 16 ½-months-old: • Lily has such a joyful, exuberant personality, so full of life and smiles and happy screeches and bubbling energy. Recently, people have been watching her in public and commenting about how cute she is and how lucky I am to have such a happy, giggly baby. I agree that we are enormously and richly and deeply blessed to have a child who loves life so fearlessly and vocally and passionately. She feels life and expresses openly, crying for hurt feelings and squealing with zeal for parachute, Daddy, or a hundred other little reasons throughout each day. She is so sweet with me and will just come over, fall on me, and start sucking her thumb if I am sitting on the floor. She loves her Grandma almost more than me and is thrilled to be in her arms when Grandma visits, though she remembers her mama if she’s tired or hurt. • She is lively but gentle, holding a teddy bear and feeding it a bottle with a loving mother’s touch. • Lily is so excited to learn, and she loves to be asked her animal sounds and to tell you that the cow says “moo” and the dog says “woof! woof! woof!” Her favorite book is a lift-the-flap story about animals. • She is really strong. We just got a new toy storage system, and I was asking Emma to put back one of the big bins. She said, “I can’t, Mommy. It’s too heavy.” I picked it up and agreed with her, then suddenly realized that someone had to get it out. I asked Emma, “How did you get it out?” She said, “I didn’t. Peanut did.” She is a little peanut, but she is mighty! • Lily is always looking for ways to become bigger. She wants to walk up the stairs, holding the railing, though she can barely reach. She prefers the booster seat at the table with the rest of the family as opposed to her high chair. If I tell her it’s time to eat, she goes over to the booster seat, pats it, and says, “boo. boo” to let me know her seating preference. • Thursday, she said her name for the first time and pointed at herself as she said it. It was adorable! • She pats me on the chest again and again and says, “Mama. Mama. Mama,” seeming to declare ownership. • She finds her SleepSack on the floor and cuddles it. If it’s on the hard tile floor, she looks like a tripod, putting her head on the SleepSack and her bottom up in the air. • She tries to reach her spare SleepSack on the changing table shelf near her crib. If she can catch the edge when she wakes up from her nap, she grabs it and drags it through the slats of the crib, looking at me triumphantly when I enter the room. I adore that dimpled grin. Life continues to be busy and full of diaper changes that are dirty work, dishes that leave dish-pan hands, drop-off for preschool that is plenty early, and dinners that are more chaotic than serene, but I can’t help but smile…our girls are seriously sweet.

Lonely But Never Alone

Motherhood is one of those jobs you can never envision until you are in it. It is wonderful beyond all expectations, and it is simultaneously more exhausting than you could have imagined. In this blog, I try to record our memories, and for the most part, it is not hard to talk about all of the joy that comes with parenting. However, sometimes I think it’s important to mention the tougher side of mommying so that all of us remember that we’re not alone.

First of all, in mommyhood, days are packed, and yet you actually feel like you accomplish very little. You wake up to crying, wash the same dishes repeatedly, create meals that end up in equal parts nourishing your little ones, providing ample opportunities for sweeping the floor, and allowing enough diaper changes that you should be called the Diaper Genie or bumGenius. You pick up the same toys dozens of times (a day) or spend three times as long encouraging your children to pick up the same toys (and that’s when they’re actually motivated to help.) You reinforce the same rules, manners, and expectations for behavior. Yet sometimes you wonder if you are that tree in the forest that no one has heard. You follow a schedule that revolves around eating, sleeping, and playing, but none of it relates to your own needs for eating, sleeping, or playing. Routine is so important to kids, and you spend much of your day trying to work around this routine, but sometimes the mundane causes you to forget the meaningful. Sure, you are working really hard, accomplishing so much. The tough part is, you might not know exactly what that is for another twenty years.

Trips to stores are adventures at best, calamities at worst. With one kid in the top of the cart and another in the basket, you cover your child(ren) in items and end up discovering squished strawberries, dented boxes, and chewed labels…all before you’ve even paid. You hope that your child(ren) will not draw the eyes of strangers for any other reason than to say they are cute. You do not want to be “that family,” the one who elicits stares of pity or judgment as your one-year-old screams or your three-year-old sobs. You enter stores with a plan, a snack, a list, a stack of coupons, and a dream that this will be a better trip than the last one. Sometimes you are pleasantly surprised, and sometimes you do the walk of shame out to your car. All of the time, you feel like you’ve climbed a mountain with the effort of simply buying items for your family while taking care of its smallest members.

As a mom, you have some lonely days where your most coherent conversation involves answering the same question (or babble) repeatedly. Strangely, though, you’re never alone. You go to the bathroom with company and someone whose sole goal it is to unroll the toilet paper roll. You get dressed amidst questions, opinions, suggestions, and small people trying on your undergarments. You try to sweep with four extra hands on the broom and four little feet walking through your pile of crumbs (or maybe that’s just at our house.) I liken it to life in a big city. You are surrounded at all times, but sometimes you feel so very alone. On the other hand, as much as you absolutely adore your children, you would give just about anything except for an hour of sleep or their health or safety just to be alone for ten minutes…for a shower, a phone conversation with a friend that is actually uninterrupted, a quick nap that will restore your energy and help you play puzzles or pat-a-cake or pretend for another afternoon. The fact is, I love my children so much, and as long as some days are, this is going too fast for me to wish for too much time away from them. Still, there are definitely days when I could use a breather, not so much to be away from them, but just to remember who I am when nobody is looking. To do this job well means to be held accountable at all times, and that’s a tough task for anyone.

All is not lost, though. Amidst the packed days and languishing “to do” lists are the moments and the magic that make this job incredible. When I get “nothing” done, I try to remember that this job will have its rewards for generations to come. When I have a challenging outing, I work to realize that my children sometimes need to cry because they don’t have three decades of practice in expressing their feelings verbally. When I feel like I haven’t had enough adult interaction, I give thanks that my kids want to talk to me, to be around me, to learn from everything I say and do. I sigh both because I am tired (what mom isn’t?) and I am content (what could be better than watching lives mold and unfold?) Though I have hours in this job that are lonely, I would choose this job, choose my children, choose this chance to never be alone. Motherhood is not easy, but it is so incredibly worth it. I thank God for my children and the chance to be this exhausted, overwhelmed, understimulated, and underpaid. For in this job, I am also energized, overcome with joy, inspired, and compensated beyond my wildest dreams.