Never look back unless you are planning to go that way. At least that is what Thoreau said.This is how I live. Looking forward. Striving ahead. Pressing on. It's just me.
I'm the kind of mom who looks forward to the next stage. And the next. As Sam drops movie one-liners into natural conversation and learns to read, I enjoy it. I don't long for the terrible two's or horrible three's. I enjoy where we are. As the twins took their first steps this last weekend we shrieked with glee and twirled them in the air, anxiously awaiting the moments to come. We didn't cry over a stage we've passed.
But somewhere inside of me, life and time and pregnancies and babies, the whole sum of my life has changed me. I don't know how it happened. Truly! I ran from it. I avoided it. I've actually said out loud that I'm just not "that" mom. But in the end I couldn't help it. I am mush. It comes at the oddest times, when I least expect it. I see something or hear something. Just a glimmer. And I feel the stinging eyes, the blurred vision. The urge to keep from crying. And I realize in these moments that my rigid resolve and armor of steel is gone. Mommyhood has stolen it from me.
A young boy with cancer passed away last week. A friend posted on Facebook about their story, and before I could help myself I caught a glimpse of the last pictures his parents took with him - cradling his frail body and willing him to hold on as they cried. Tears sprang to my eyes and I squeezed my boys extra hard that night and every night since. This is a sad story for anyone. But as a mom you just cannot even think about this situation without a tightness in your chest.
Today it happened again unexpectedly. I read an article about memories and time and kids growing up. Again, I've never been one to cling to the here and now. I look FORWARD to what's ahead. But today, just today, I made myself look back.
I realized that I don't stop and acknowledge where I am enough. I never fully appreciate what stage we are going through now and how truly great things are. Before I know it, the memories have slipped into a fuzzy vault and I can't go back.
Time is working. And I have to work to breathe. My kids are growing up. The twins are almost a year old. We'll never have babies again (thank you VERY much vasectomy!)....and I'm good with that. But it's hard to imagine a life without the expectation of experiencing this same young family life again with another kid down the road. And living all the "firsts" that you never get back.
Time is working. Do we stop and play enough? Do we pray enough? Do we read enough? Do we walk enough and explore enough? Do we pretend enough? Do we cuddle and kiss and hug and snuggle and smile enough? Borrowed from a blog....One shot. One clear shot from birth till 18, and it's not ever really one stroke, but a thousand - well, about 6,570 daily putts...
Time is working. So what do I do? I quietly celebrate that Ben is not missing out. Our kids are not missing out. Our family will be stronger because of the decisions we have made. Thankfully Ben staying home directly resulted in me spending at least an hour more a day with my kids. An hour of time not stolen. An hour of time I can make count.
I drove home from work today contemplating the concept of sowing and reaping. Remember this: Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows generously will also reap generously (2 Corinthians 9:6).
Do I apply this to my life? Do I apply this to my parenting? When I get frustrated with Sam for the 900th time, do I keep my cool and refrain from yelling? When I calm a fussy, teething almost one-year-old (or two), do I hold them close a little longer? When I wake up and go to sleep moving, feeding, changing diapers, guiding, teaching, training, and doing and being mommy without a second to stop do I acknowledge the honor of parenthood? Do I put down that one more thing for myself or life and say I've got something better to do with my family? (Sara Groves reference here for those of you wondering!) Do I? Not enough.
My discipline style is all about sowing and reaping. I know that short term hard work and stress and gruel and frustration pays off in the end. I stay strong. I don't waver. I draw a line and don't compromise. Hard work pays off in well-behaved, polite, respectful and happy kids.
But my daily life? Do I spend time with my kids and husband like this? Do I show my kids I love them like this? Do I live like sowing generously reaps generously? Not enough. But I need to.
Time is working. I'm not looking back, but I'm going to enjoy the sowing a little more each day. And hope that the mush stays hidden behind my armor of steel. :)
