The Mom I Am Now

I'm sitting here (BY MYSELF!!!), slooooooowly sipping coffee (BY MYSELF!!!), and a few tables over stands a group of people oohing and aahing over a brand new baby. New Mommy is regaling her enthusiastic onlookers with tales of how curly this massive volume of hair on baby's head gets in the bath, how good he is, how much of a sleeper. She is beaming, animated, joyful, relaxed, casual about any lack of sleep she's experiencing and confident of its return. And I remember being this mom. I recall people oohing and aahing over my brand new baby and eager for stories of his already-blossoming character traits. And I remember being eager and happy to share them.
Then, with a jolt, I glimpse an outsider's view of the mom I am now. I envision myself coming into this place with my boys and running into someone we know. I clearly see the game of tag that would inevitably begin, the tugging on my arms and tiny, whiny voices asking when we can leave and what we're going to do next. I can picture myself rolling my eyes and reprimanding through gritted teeth, sighing, and smiling stiffly as I adopt my martyr posture.
I don't remember the exact moment I lost that new mom glow or stopped singing my kids' praises and instead started apologizing for them and regaling family/friends/random passerby with a litany of ways in which they drain me and suck up my life force. I do remember noticing a subtle shift from congratulating new moms-to-be to wincing and warning them of the doom and gloom parenthood can bring. Who wants to be that person?
Lately, I've had several dear, trusted people in my life share emphatically with me how great they think my kids are, how friendly, full of life, joyful, outgoing, kind. And seeing them through others' eyes is beginning to shift my perspective. It's so easy for me to focus on the negative ways they can influence my day, those things that usually only a mom sees, but when I hear repeatedly the positive things that my children are bringing to the world around them, I am humbled.
Parenting is hard. I don't know anyone who would dispute that. That new mom might not see it yet, at least not in its full brutal force, but in a few years when her one child has become two or three, or when her little angel begins living out that will of his own, maybe she won't be so boisterous and full of positive stories to share. However, as my mom so wisely pointed out to me not that long ago, if you didn't care about your kids so much it wouldn't be hard at all.
The other thing that new mom can't possibly grasp yet is how incredibly rewarding parenting is: when all your child wants to do all day long is squeeze the crap out of your neck and tell you he loves you, or when there's no one else your kids would choose to be with other than you; when you see your child, at his young and innocent age, lavishing kindness on others or including them in his world; when you feel your heart bursting with a love you never knew possible at the same time that a searing pain reminds you they're growing up and away from you. When I stop and notice these things I am reminded what an incredible gift God gave me in being a mom. Not just any mom. A mom to MY boys. My three gregarious, hyperactive, fun-loving, kind, outgoing, joyful, look-at-this-will-of-my-own-I'm-going-to-show-you boys.
I hope the next time you see me you'll hear me telling about the great things my boys have done lately and the really cool people I know they are. I hope that my eye-rolling will have diminished and that you won't hear me making excuses for them (though maybe lovingly disciplining where necessary). I hope that you'll see me smiling a lot more than sighing, and that I'll be embracing everything about this life that God has given to me: the good, the bad, and the ugly - each in its turn. That's the mom I want to be now.

My Preschooler

Very likely those of you reading this are also my Facebook friends and have already feasted your eyes upon the display of cuteness below. Tough noogies. You will gaze upon the cuteness of my Benj (and other boys as well) once again:

This child spent the better part of his summer making sure I was WELL aware of the fact that he was not going to school come fall. "I'm just gonna stay home with you, Mom." Well.

It's true that he tends to be more of my homebody. (He's also the child that favors sleeping in, therefore, he is my favorite. **) He is also generally less of a "jumper-inner", more cautious when it comes to new situations and experiences. He continues to be the laid back member of the tribe.

Fast forward to the first day of Jeran's year. In a show of brotherly solidarity, Ben donned his backpack for the walk to school and upon seeing his older bro and classmates enthusiastically enter the building immediately decided that this school thing was ok. What followed were two weeks of impatience and inquiries as to why he was not also going to "my-school-with-my-teachers-Miss-Marilyn-and-Miss-Judith". And then we found ourselves at day one. In some ways my experience in bringing Ben to his first day of school was the same as with Jeran. Eager, anxious, excited, sad. But as we've gotten into the swing of school I've noticed there are differences too. I've found (mostly because he is a much more forthcoming fountain of information, and Jeran tends to be one-worded in his approach to detailing the day) that I don't pummel him for information, don't obsess about what he's doing and how he's behaving, etc. I grew comfortable about Ben being a school kid much quicker than I did when it was Jeran's turn. I think it has everything to do with their difference in temperament and personality. I don't generally worry about Ben and how he's handling things once he's settled in. Anyhoo. That's two boys in school - count em, TWO! Next year, by the grace of the potty gods, Grayson will join them. Wahoo!! And...sigh.

**I DON'T HAVE A FAVORITE. Get serious.