Ever since I gave birth to my oldest daughter four years ago I have come to appreciate my own mother. Nights I walked the floor with her because she couldn't sleep. A constant onslaught of messy diapers. Trying to understand her first attempts at communication. Trying to be protective enough without overdoing it. The first time I left her with a babysitter. Spit up on my best clothes. Getting bit while breastfeeding and then weaning her as well. Trying to explain what it meant when I got pregnant with her sister. Trying to cope with her jealousies about the new baby. Waking up for a two o'clock feeding. I think about it and I know that my mother did all these things for me and I smile and nod because I know that that's what mother's are for.
We kiss away boo-boos.
We tell our kids no even though it breaks our hearts to see them cry because we know that we can't always give them what they want. We watch
our children grow every day. It amazes us how much they learn and how fast they learn it. We feed them and bathe them and clothe them and hope that we have given
them enough. We wonder every day if we're doing it the right way. We wonder what they will be like when they grow up and hope we don't find out too soon. We try to
keep a straight face when they tell us their stories. Sometimes we laugh, sometimes we cry.
The moment my oldest daughter was born, the first time I laid eyes on her I fell in love.
She would cry in that wee small voice, I couldn't even hear her if I wasn't in the
same room. I held her and sang to her and rocked her to sleep. Then it didn't seem very long before she started to roll over. Then she started to scoot along the floor.
Soon she was crawling and sitting up. The time just seemed to pass so quickly. Then she started to walk, every time she would sway and wobble I wanted to run to her
side but I knew I needed to let her learn. I remember her starting out saying a few words. Words like Mama and Dada then one day she said Duck holding a rubber ducky.
Then she started talking in sentences.
Sometimes I was the only one who knew what she was saying but she was talking.
As a mother, it's terrifying the first time you see your child fall. When she starts to climb and you realize that just putting her on the floor won't keep her safe anymore.
That putting things out of her reach just makes it a challenge. When she climbs up the slide for the first time by herself but is too scared to slide down. I can't explain the
tug at my heart that is motherly love. The range of feelings I go through each day, from joy to dispair, pride to disappointment, exhilaration to exhaustion, amazement to
exhasperation. Sometimes I feel like I'm being tugged in two different directions at once.
One day when I found my two daughters in the kitchen, one covered in flour, the other gleefully spooning it onto her with a measuring cup, I didn't know whether to laugh or
cry. My youngest daughter discovered at 14 monthes that she could climb into the bathroom sink.
One time I even caught it on tape, every few seconds the tape shakes
a bit because I kept thinking that she might fall. My oldest started getting into my make up when she was 3 years old so we got her some children's make up for her fourth
birthday which she immediately smeared all over her face.
I'm not an expert at being a mom, I've had 4 years experience and I still think I'm just a begginner. I worry every day if I'm doing it right. I've asked my own mother for
advice many times. "Did any of us ever...?" is a question I often ask. I used to sleep in everyday at least to 9:00 sometimes later. Since my oldest daughter was born I
haven't slept past 8:00 one single morning that I can remember. But there's nothing like a child's smile to make you want to get up. I cherish the times they wake up
happy.
Every day my children teach me something. I'm learning to be more patient. I'm learning to be more forgiving. I'm learning to laugh at myself more. I'm learning that I can
be silly. I'm learning to hold my tongue more. I'm learning that the little things in life can make you smile. I'm learning that I'm not always right. I'm learning that I can't be
everywhere all the time.
I'm learning that I can't always protect my children. I'm learning that they want to be like me. I'm learning that they are each unique and special.
I'm learning that there is no one size fits all rule book for raising children. I'm learning that they both learn differently. I'm learning that I can leave them with a babysitter
sometimes.
It's funny how part of me wants them to grow up so they'll understand things better. So I can talk to them more and so they aren't always getting in to everything. But part
of me wants them to stay this way forever. Innocent as the newborn dove. I know some day they will need me to talk to them about those tough subjects that no one
wants to talk about. I know someday they will ask questions I don't have the answer for. Someday they will have to learn about death and loss but I just want to protect
them from all of that for as long as I can.
I know some day they will realize that I don't have all the answers. Someday they will know that I'm not a super hero, that I'm just
a mom. But I don't want that day to come just yet. I like being my daughter's hero and I want to hang onto that for just a little longer. Can you blame me?
