Posts Tagged: Motherhood


Weekly Winners {The Mother’s Day Edition}

 

On Motherhood {Part I}
On Motherhood {Part II}
On Motherhood {Part III}
On Motherhood {Part IV}

 

Women know
The way to rear up children (to be just)
They know a simple, merry, tender knack
Of tying sashes, fitting baby shoes,
And stringing pretty words that make no sense,
And kissing full sense into empty words.

—Elizabeth Barrett Browning

On Motherhood {Part III}

As a mother I have hopes and dreams for my children. There’s so much to teach them, so much for them to learn, but if they only remember one thing about life, it would have to be….

…to smile,

_

…to be gracious,

…to beam,

…to express pure joy and friendliness,

…to ALWAYS be tender, love each other, open their hearts, and express it—always—on their beautiful faces.


It is my hope and wish that with love, happiness, and smiles they will radiate; the world will be a better place for it, I know!

On Motherhood {Part I}
On Motherhood {Part II}


This post is part of a four part sponsored Tiny Prints Mother’s Day campaign. Tiny Prints has Mother’s Day cards that are fully customizable, and can be sent straight to the recipient. For someone, such as myself, who always forgets to send out cards on time, this new service that Tiny Prints is offering is just awesome. You can schedule your cards or gifts to go out, letting all the mothers in your life know how special they are, and how much you treasure them! Stay tuned for more of my reflections on motherhood.

On Motherhood {Part II}

PhotobucketPhotobucketI can still smell the sweaty air of the gym room where the competition was being held.  He had been preparing for months to enter the sparring ring, and while he prepared I tried to put it out of my mind that I could not be in that ring with him to defend him from round house kicks or punches.  With each minute that passed my heart would jump up into my throat.  Sitting on the edge of my seat I surely worried that he would be hurt.  Ultimately, I knew that he would be all right.  I knew that no matter what this was the beginning of letting go.   And, his success was dependent upon my ability to let go, watch from the side lines, and be there when it was all said and done.

He looked so small amidst all the players.  He was my oldest, but he was still a baby to me.  Do they ever become anything other than your baby?   I don’t think so, but, regardless, you still have to let go.

A few weeks ago I felt the same way when I dropped him off at the day-long air-soft playing field.  I looked around at all the other “boys”, and they seemed so much bigger that my new teenage boy.   What was I doing dropping him off to run around while little plastic bb’s were shot at him?

“You reeeeeeeally like this, Mikey?”

“Yes, Mama, I reeeeeeeeally like it.  Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

“But, but, but, they look so big.  And, they have knee pads.  Do you need knee pads?”

“Mama, I’m fine without knee pads.  I’m fine.  I’ll be fine.”

Well, I guess I should go now.  Be careful.”

“Yes, Mama, you should go now.  I’ll be careful.”

“Can I hug you?”

“Not right now.”

“Ok. I love you.”

“Yeah, me too, Mama.”

Recently I was asked, “What has been the most surprising thing about motherhood?”

That answer’s simple….the most surprising thing is how easy (albeit bittersweet) it has been to let go the older the kids get.

I could tell so many stories about letting go, and the fear that’s associated with it.   Though it’s been really astounding to me how easy it’s been, there is always this stomach churning fear, right before the actual act of letting go.  But, being the mother to four children (who aren’t staying babies, even though I have begged and pleaded with them not to grow up so fast) means that I have to let them go.  I have to let them make mistakes.  I have to let them get hurt.  I have to let them find their own way in the world.

With every frustrating, hair-pulling, gut-wrenching day that passes, they learn something, and I have complete faith, that no matter what, they will step one foot in front of the other and make the right choices in their lives.  Whether it’s in a sparring ring, an air-soft field, “walking like a big-boy” in Wal-mart, at a sleepover at a friend’s house, or walking to the library my Mama instinct tells me that they will do the right thing.   That? Makes it easy (read: easier) to let go.  Plus, they know that I’m always there for them, no matter where life takes them.

What’s been the most surprising thing–about motherhood--to you?

On Motherhood {Part I}


This post is part of a four part sponsored Tiny Prints Mother’s Day campaign.  Tiny Prints has Mother’s Day cards that are fully customizable, and can be sent straight to the recipient.  For someone, such as myself, who always forgets to send out cards on time, this new service that Tiny Prints is offering is just awesome.  You can schedule your cards or gifts to go out, letting all the mothers in your life know how special they are, and how much you treasure them!  Stay tuned for more of my reflections on motherhood.

 

On Motherhood {Part I}

Mama & BabyI remember standing over my first newborn baby, as he slept soundly in his bassinet, thinking to myself that I had no idea what I was doing.  I went from a mostly carefree married woman to a mother.  The nine months prepared me, I was ready for it, but I doubted knowing what I was doing.   Yet, still, I stood over him, watching his chest rise and fall, dreaming of the days to come.   What would his favorite color be?   Would he love bubbles?  Would he always like to fall asleep, on my shoulder, with me singing him a sweet lullaby?

Would I mess him up?  Would I be good enough for him?

As he slept one night, a couple months later, I watched over him again thinking how marvelous it would be if he had a little brother or sister Photobucketto love.   All the while, deep within me, grew a second perfect little human being.  The following almost-nine months would be spent worrying if I would have enough in me to give.    Each night, as I rocked my first baby to sleep with a new baby—a girl—growing inside of me, I would dream some more.   Would they love to play make-believe together?  Would they feed each other bites of their ice cream because they would have different tastes, yet within them lived the desire to try something new?   Would they sing songs together; the very songs that I’d sang to them, as they fell fast asleep at nap and at night?   Would they fight?  Would they be best friends?

Would I mess them up?  Would I be good enough for the both of them?

There was never a plan to have three children so close-in-age.  Blessings don’t have to go according to plan, though.  And, by the millennium I was the mother to three babies.   Going from two to three was almost effortless.  Other than the simultaneous pooping, never ending supply of sippy cups and bottles, and round-the-clock Blue’s Clues and Veggie Tales, it wasn’t that bad.   It was tiring.  There was constant movement.   But, it was manageable.   My favorite part of the day was our bedtime routine.  The baby in my arms, the girl would sit to my right, as she twirled my hair in her chubby fingers, and the big boy would sit with his Papa.   As the baby fell asleep in my arms, I would think about the day we had, reflecting upon how time felt so short because they were growing so quickly.   Still something in me would say, “you have forever to get it right, Mishelle.”

Relentlessly, I would worry about messing them up, and I’d continue to question if I would be good enough for all of them.

PhotobucketYears flew by and in between we’d get lost in the day-in-and-day-out.   My expectations of “perfect days” would be bounced out of the window when the reality of days took over.  It didn’t really matter, though; there was constant laughter and singing and ice cream and park play and, most of all, love.   Certainly those thoughts about being a good enough mother would infiltrate my mind, but my heart would tell me that I was.  My heart would let my eyes see my children in these moments that proved to me that I was doing my best, and that I wasn’t messing them up.

*****

Years later while sitting on my bed, on my thirty-second birthday, drinking coffee, I shared with Michael that I was pregnant again.   I wondered… What kind of relationships would the bigs have with the new baby?  Would they change his diapers?  Would they take him to the park when they were old enough to drive?   Would they teach him our songs?   And, again, I was flooded with thoughts about what kind of mother I would be to this new baby, so many years later, with bigger kids.

Would I mess him up, and would I be good enough for my evolving family?

 

I have never professed to be the perfect mother.  I might yell too much at times.  I might make mistakes.  I might say the wrong things at the wrong times.  I might butt heads.  I might resort to pizza on nights that I don’t feel like cooking.

But…

I have come to the realization that there is no such thing as a perfect mother.

Fearing that you will mess up your children or questioning if you’re good enough just shows [your] vulnerability.

I am proud to say that I am a vulnerable mother.  That is what makes me believe—with all my heart—that I cannot mess up my children, because I am absolutely a good enough mother for them.


This post is part of a four part sponsored Tiny Prints Mother’s day campaign.  Tiny Prints has Mother’s Day cards that are fully customizable, and can be sent straight to the recipient.  For someone, such as myself, who always forgets to send out cards on time, this new service that Tiny Prints is offering is just awesome.  You can schedule your cards and gifts to go out, letting all the mothers in your life know how special they are, and how much you treasure them!  Stay tuned for more of my reflections on motherhood.

 

An Open Apology

Oh,

Dear Children,

I’m so sorry that I got angry with you, for jumping in that glorious puddle of mud.

I was wrong.

It was wrong to be angry at you for children simply being children.

It was wrong of me to be angry at you for this moment of bliss.

The puddled whispered seductively to you, “come, jump, make a mess.”

Yes, a mess it did make, and, yes, the hole was made deeper.

But, I understand the attraction and how the muddy water called to you all.

I see that this was a few minutes that will be etched on [your childhood] heart.

For all of time.

Sure, I was upset at first.

You know it, and

So do I.

That moment was fleeting, though.

Thank God.

I ran inside and grabbed my friend.

{The friend that I’m always pointing at you.}

And I snapped,

And smiled,

And snapped,

And laughed,

And felt like a horrible mom for my initial feelings at the very instant of the puddle jumping.

I ask you to please forgive me.

For I made two mistakes that day.

One we know.

Two?

This is the one that I will make up to you (and me) someday.

The second mistake, in retrospect, I can now see;

I didn’t jump in the mud with you.

There will be a next time.

Of this I am sure.

I promise.

Love,
Mama



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