I Imagine

Imagining my babies, as I awaited their arrival, was one of my favorite things about each of my pregnancies. Daydreaming about them was a “favorite-life-moment” for me. Imagining them. Imagining who they’d be and what we would share.

If you are anticipating the arrival of a little miracle, don’t stop daydreaming about them. But, just remember, no matter how you imagine them, no matter how you picture it … it will be so much better! The love you feel for them will take your every breath away. There is hard, sure, most definitely. But, let’s forget about that for a moment and cheers to the good, to the lovely. Here’s to motherhood!

I imagine

You will be like a great discovery,

Opening yourself to me,

Little by little,

Day by day,

I imagine

All the ways we will grow together,

You teaching me with spectacular wonder,

New eyes in which to see the world,

Such fresh perspective,

And creative grace,

I imagine,

Your beauty will astonish me,

Captivating my soul,

Captivating the very essence of who I am,

I imagine

Your face,

Picturing your daddy,

Picturing me,

Marveling at the pieces of us,

Reincarnated in your reflection,

I imagine

Such an amazing adventure of life for you,

A journey of magnificent joy,

Memories mixed between the pages,

Of daily smiles and holidays,

Laughter filling all the spaces of our hearts,

I imagine you…

                My baby-to-be

 

 

 

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The Hurried Truth

“Hurry, hurry.” I tell him. “We’re going to be late.” “What’s late?” He asks casually, not hurrying at all. I’ve explained “late” at least a dozen times, but his concept of time is not the same as mine. He’s 3. “Hurry” is not a word he enjoys. In fact, it’s not a word he even so much as acknowledges. He sees no need for it. Why should we hurry? I get it. I get him. But, if I were to follow his lead, we’d never actually make it anywhere at all.

I struggle with this. I struggle with hurrying him. I love who he is. I don’t want him to have to hurry. But there are certain protocols that society dictates and expects. It’s the game of life and we have no choice but to play. We must be on time … or at least close.

Like most 3 year olds, N is a free spirit. He beats to his own drum. This big ole world hasn’t broken him, hasn’t even attempted to snuff out his soul. And, I don’t want it to. I want to see this world through his eyes. It’s beyond refreshing. Yet, a typical outing for us involves a battle over getting dressed (“I want comfy clothes, not jeans”), over brushing teeth (“Not right now, after George is over”), over getting his shoes on (“Not yet, not yet, not yet”). Once all of that is done, and N is buckled in his car seat it’s usually, “Oh, Mommy, I have to pee again” or “I forgot my blanket” or fill-in-the-blank item of the day. I try to make it to where we are going. I try not to snap his neck in the process. I aim to be on time. I do. And, I was never very good at being on time when it was just ME. Now it just feels nearly impossible. Oh, yes, and did I mention there’s the other one too?! A, the 7-month-old who’s certainly not without her needs. She loves to fill her diaper with a fun surprise right before we head out the door!

So, how do we find a balance between letting them move freely at their own pace, enjoying the world as they go and making it out the door to where we need to be? I struggle with the anxiety that I feel about time and hurrying. It makes me frazzled. It makes me impatient. Some days, it even makes me mean. I snap. I threaten. I certainly say things that I shouldn’t. And, I feel terrible about it.

Today, I hurried them. But, I used more kisses and less empty threats. I used gentle reminders. I started the process earlier. It felt good. Still, A was crying when I buckled her in. Still, a glass was broken and needed cleaned up. Still, our dog came in with mulch and mud all over her. Still, we were late. But, it’s just going to have to be. I’m just going to have to take deeper, slower breathes. I’m not going to give myself a panic attack. I’m going to use the word “hurry” a little less, but it WILL still be used from time to time. And I’m not going to feel guilty about that. That’ll just have to be. We’ll aim to be on time. But, it’ll be okay if we are a little late. It will just have to be. N doesn’t feel stressed. Why should I? Yes, I have to guide them, lead them and show them what responsibility looks like. But, they don’t need to see me fret over the little things so much. Let’s pick what matters. Take our time where we can. Hurry when we have to, and enjoy a slower pace whenever time allows. Breathe. It’ll all be okay. It will just have to be.

If Ever You Wonder

For our babies. For yours. For mine. For all of our little loves. If ever they wonder about love, about loss, about life. If ever they doubt this world. They should know how much they are loved. A mother’s love can live in the wind and the waves. It will always find them … If Ever They Wonder…

If ever a moment catches you,

A shadow in time chases you,

Causing you to wonder if love is real,

Think of me,

And know that it is,

Know that you are my heart,

My air, my smile,

Know that long before your existence,

A prayer was whispered into the wind,

The desire to love you was strong,

If ever you feel alone in this world,

Think of me,

And know that nothing has ever captured me,

The way you do,

You are my very own miracle,

The simplest smile on your sweet baby lips,

Can cause an ache deep in my heart,

The smell of your soft baby skin,

Can cause my eyes to fill,

For no reason at all,

Your musical little giggles,

Can fill a whole house with the sound of love,

Pure and true,

The way you fit so perfectly,

Snuggled right in my arms,

So trusting,

It touches my very core,

If ever you wonder,

If ever you doubt,

Don’t.

Think of me,

And know that every single day,

I’m honored…

Honored to be your mommy.

Dancing in the Dark

There are days when we dance. We dance in the kitchen at 3 in the afternoon after having a snack or feeding A. We leave our mess on the counter, scattered around the room. And, we dance.

Some days, we are still in our pajamas simply because we haven’t gotten around to getting dressed yet. I could feel bad about this right? It would be so easy to allow myself to feel bad about it. Sure, I would have liked to have gotten dressed – maybe even showered – but why focus on that? Why not just dance!? Dance in the kitchen with my babies!

Some days, we dance with in A’s room after getting her dressed or changed. N turns on the radio. It doesn’t matter what song comes on. We dance. We laugh! A giggles and giggles. She loves to watch her brother dance silly!

Some days we dance after dinner. Right in the kitchen. Slowly making our way into the living room and up the stairs to get the little ones bathed and ready for bed. A bounces in Daddy’s arms, while N and I spin each other round and round. We huddle together for a “family hug” and dance in an awkward pile. We laugh. We dance.

Some days, R and I dance quietly, slowly, just for a minute … right it the midst of the chaos. I lean into to him and let him hold me. We ignore the crying and the noise, and we pretend we are somewhere else. We take a moment just for us. And we dance.

There is so much happiness to be found. Most days I choose to look away from the bad, the hurt, the negative in this world and look toward the happy instead. My babies like to dance. It’s beautiful, fun and so very simple. It’s something they’ll remember when they are grown. They’ll remember dancing. They’ll remember laughing. They’ll remember that Mommy let the dishes go and danced with them. And, you know what? I’ll remember too. When I look back on this lovely time in my life, I won’t think about dishes or days when I didn’t get out of my pjs. I’ll think about the laughter. I’ll think about the dancing.

To My N, on your 3rd Birthday

Note: Today is actually N’s 1/2 birthday. He’s 3 and a 1/2 today. I wrote this 6 months ago, on his 3rd birthday, but today seemed like the perfect day to share. Happy 1/2 Birthday, Little Man!

To My N, on your 3rd Birthday,

Three years ago, on this very day, I fell in love. You opened those huge, majestic eyes of yours, looked right into my soul, and I was a goner. I simply handed my heart over to you. At that time, I had no idea how much that would mean, how deep my love for you would run, how much it would grow. Now, I gaze at you, my big 3-year-old boy, with an adoration that is simply unmatched. To me, it’s like gazing at the sun. I’ve never witnessed such innocence, such wonder, such a naturally loving, sweet soul. You are divine. Don’t get me wrong, my dear, I’m under no illusions that you are perfect. You wear me out – even on our very best days! You aren’t perfect, but you are my perfection. You’re a contradiction of the perfectly imperfect. You are THREE — easily angered, quick to react, emotional, resistant to sleep, full of attachment issues, etc. But, it all just makes you YOU.  So, today, on your birthday, I’m feeling sentimental. Of course. Naturally. If I could just bottle you up, capture a piece of you at 3, paint the perfect picture of you… just as you are right now… maybe I could keep that piece of you forever. A written photograph of the boy who has my heart.

At 3, you are …

  • kisses and giggles and silliness

  • snuggle-buggles and bedtime stories

  • lullabies and afraid of monsters

  • a lover of books

  • endless chatter and questions

  • my best helper

  • stuffed animals and your best friend (Curious) “Georgie”

  • running shoes and running fast

  • riding your red tricycle round and round

  • PB&J and cheese quesadillas

  • fake tattoos and stickers

  • chasing Harper

  • a charming little tease

  • muscle shirt wearer

  • family time lover

  • kind soul

  • new big brother

… and SO much more.

My heart aches a little every single day as I watch you grow and change. Though, I know this is something that’s impossible for you to understand right now. I hope that one day you will … as you hold your very own babies. I yearn to keep you little, to keep you mine, to hold you close always. Yet, I enjoy watching you grow and become the boy (and man) that you are meant to be. Still, you’ll always be my baby!

Happy Birthday Favorite Boy!!

I’ll love you till the end of time…

–Your Momma

I Will Always Be Your Home

Some days my heart is so full, the words just pour out. This one is for my little ones so that they may always know – they will always have me.

The sun settles over me with a blinding brilliancy,
As I watch you, my babies,
You are the most beautiful beings,
My heart radiates with a magical love,
Certainly there is no greater,
It is yours and always yours,
To carry with you on your travels,
I will always be your home,
Your refuge,
A safe place to hide,
A shelter from life’s storms,
I will always be your strength
On days when you need to fall,
I will be your ear
On days when you feel lost,
I will laugh with you forever,
For your giggles light my way,
I will hold you
Long after you are too big for my lap,
And, my heart will carry you
Long after the sands of time have faded away
You will never be alone,
My loves.
Your momma’s love will fly with the angels and surround you…
On and on and on…

Once Upon a Time We were a Family of Three

Toward the end of my pregnancy with A, I became a sentimental mess. I couldn’t help but worry that I’d forget about the lovely three years that we spent as a family of 3. I worried that N wouldn’t remember the time before A … when it was just us, when our world revolved around him …

Dear N,

I know our lives are about to change, and I know that you have no idea what’s coming. Before that happens…before your momma (your anchor, your security) gets lost in all the crazy that comes with having a newborn, I wanted to take moment and make sure you know….

A piece (a big piece) of my heart will always be yours and only yours. It belongs to you, my sweet, sweet baby boy.  If you ever look back and wonder about the time “before A”, when it was just US, you should know that our nearly-3 years alone together, as a precious family of 3, meant the whole world to me. You were my first and nothing can ever change that or take that from us. Without you, I wouldn’t be a momma, nor would I have learned all of the things that word “Momma/Mommy” can mean. I’m scared, actually, if I’m completely honest with you… and with myself. I’m scared that we may lose something that we’ve so carefully crafted…the love that we’ve deepened and perfected and made ours. You and me. My favorite boy. You’ll always be the one who knows how to make his momma smile and laugh. Your “are you happy, Momma?” can pull me away from my thoughts and right back into your world. When you pat my leg tenderly and say, “Everything little thing gonna be alright”, I melt and it’s impossible to stay frustrated or overwhelmed, or whatever emotion I am caught up in at the moment. I love the way you love me … so fully and completely. You have such joy – it embraces me and carries me away. I adore your bright smiles, your easy laugh, and the way you tease your daddy (you are so much like him). We’ve made a place for ourselves in this big ‘ole world and though I am ready to let another tiny person in, I’m terrified that I’ll forget what it was like when it was just us. My son, always know, I love you in the most amazingly powerful way. My heart soars and breaks at exactly the same moment when I think about it. You are my wild, my happy, my determined, my independent, my muscle shirt wearing, my stuffed animal loving, my fearless, my kind, my soft-hearted, my beautiful. You are my first. My boy. I will love you till the end of time!

Love, Mommy

(written July 7th, 2013)