my crazy, beautiful life

When you are a mother, it’s hard to know where your life ends and your children’s begin. They are woven together so closely that the line of separation is nearly seamless.

In my 20’s, I thought of motherhood as the next step in my life. The thing I was supposed to do –that all my friends were doing. It was just part of the circle of life, of my life. I had a husband I loved, a stable job, a house. I knew less, worried less, and made foolish decisions regarding my words and my choices and my behavior. I didn’t consider neighborhood parks or pools or school systems when house-hunting. I didn’t care that my frivolous spending would later rob my children of vacations or family outings or a nicer home. I didn’t realize what a rare and beautiful occasion it was to have an hour alone with my husband without spending countless hours trying to find someone you trust enough to watch your children. In my 20’s, I didn’t understand all that the job of a mother encompasses. The way your heart literally stops beating when you think even for a moment that your child is in danger or the hours of sleep you don’t realize you are missing while you rock your sick baby, rubbing and patting and kissing and checking every 5 minutes in hopes that her fever has broken. In my 20’s, I didn’t realize the overwhelming sense of pride I would feel each time I look at my sweet girls or how being near them makes me feel whole. No one could have explained how watching your child sleep peacefully can make you feel so full of love that you literally feel like you are going to suffocate or the utter panic you feel placing your child on a school bus for the first time. I didn’t have to try or pray relentlessly for my body to be strong enough – healthy enough for a child. It was simply an expectation – as was everything else good in my life.

My 30’s have brought more perspective. I’m more aware of the terror and sickness and injustice of our world, and I sometimes lie awake in the stillness of the night wondering how in the world I deserve so many blessings. In my 30’s, I am aware that my words count, and although I am not always successful, I try and use the harsh ones sparingly…so my girls understand that kindness is always the goal but know that there are times you have to stand up for yourself…and times when, well, you just aren’t perfect. I apologize when I am wrong – to them or in front of them – so they will understand that in life, everyone needs a little forgiveness. I look at myself in the mirror more closely and am careful to try and avoid words that disrespect my body in front of them. After all, in my 30’s, I have become smart enough to realize that every single thing I say or do is shaping their confidence, their perspective, their ability to love themselves and others. That fact petrifies me, but it’s a responsibility I can’t shed because I am a mother. In my 30’s, I am often overwhelmed by the responsibility of my job – of being an attentive and supportive spouse – of making enough time for my kids and their learning, their appointments, their sports, their activities. Did I love them enough today? Compliment them enough? Teach them enough? Did I discipline them when they needed it and let it slide when they didn’t? Or was I yet again too hard on them when I didn’t have to be because I was exhausted from work? With all those questions swimming in my brain, I get frustrated and tired and out of sorts – and then – I simply remind myself what an honor it is that I get to worry about all of those things. The best thing about my 30’s is that I have learned the art of perseverance and want my children to know that the good things in life and the people you love are worth all of the effort they bring... sometimes you just need a little reminder. I finally realize that even the crappy days will pass and that one day not too long from now, I will look back at the chaos of my life…the hours and hours I have spent watching the Backyardigans, listening to Hannah Montana, the messes I have to clean up after meal time, the mountains of laundry I have to keep up with, or the homework I have to help get done and I will miss this. One day, I will understand where the line is between my life and my children’s lives, and I will wish the line was still blurred. I will miss my crazy, beautiful life.