Mirror

Being a mom has presented me with the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. 

The highs exponentially outweigh the lows, but the lows have everything to do with my identity and drill down to the core of "me." 

The most remarkable thing about being a mother (to me) is that my children are a mirror.  You can see IN REAL TIME how your behavior, mood, and speech affect your children.  Obviously I'm a newbie in terms of this observation as my rascals are (almost) 2 and 4 1/2 but still . . . this is the time where I am shaping some of the blocks of their foundation. 

The fun part about this is that they come with their own set of blocks.  Their blocks are not perfect, some are malleable and some are just who they are in the most basic way.  It is our job to work around the immovable blocks, shape the malleable ones and add our own (very important) blocks.

The HARD part is what I see in my "mirror."  Things Ethan says to himself when he is frustrated mimic phrases I use when I'm muttering.  My impatience (low blood sugar, hormones, evil pixies, etc.) bleeds off onto Ethan and he, in turn, gets whiny and prone to bursting into tears.  My divided attention for myriad reasons means that he wants to rush speaking to me and is starting to stutter again.

I KNOW in my heart that what I do, say and act affects my children profoundly.  I am AWARE.  They are my mirror.  And they are the most amazing thing that I've helped create and nurture. 

At the end of the day, when they are safely tucked in bed and I feel like that 70lb rucksack has been shed . . . I feel peaceful.  I am content that they are safe and happy and well cared for, but I'm also thankful I can just focus on myself for one freakin' moment.  I've said it before, I'm in the trenches right now, things will get better.  Well . . . they will be different. 

Parenting is practically nebulous at this stage, it flows, changes and rockets in directions that you can't anticipate.  While my parenting has become more psychological than physical it is also incredibly MORE challenging.  I feel as if I'm on a stage all the time.  I am held accountable for my actions . . .  not by my peers but my children.  And that, my dear folks, is a good thing.  But it also means that relaxation is fleeting and contemplation (beyond this drivel) is evasive. 

This Mother's Day all I want to do is sleep in, read and drink coffee.  I know it won't happen, and that is okay . . . because I will have all the time for that in the world when they are grown up and leave the house.  I can't even begin to imagine.  I wish, to some degree, that they would stay little forever.