parental words of wisdom
From the cribsheet Blog in www.startribune.com:
Tuesday, July 17th, 2007 by May
Here’s the first of four essays on motherhood we’re posting by students of Kate Hopper’s Mother Words class at the Loft Literary Center. This one is by Betsy Conway of Edina.
Today I crave a lot of me time, alone time, time to be myself and do what I want to do. And I feel bad. I’m scared I’m too selfish.
I feel bad for wanting to wake up on my own without Ellie walking in at 5:30 in the morning or Lily asking to walk her to the potty. I feel bad for thinking why can’t I just read the mail without someone tugging at my leg? Why can’t I just lie in bed without someone playing with my hair? It scares me to think that way about my own kids.
But what really scares me is that someday…
Someday their bedroom doors will be shut more often than open and I will not know nor will they want me to know what is going on in there. Just for today I relish being able to walk into their rooms together, choose books to read from their bookshelves and rifle through drawers picking out an outfit. Right now the only time their bedroom door is shut is when I have carefully closed it to keep out the nighttime sounds of a reality T.V., a phone ringing or murmured adult conversations.
Someday they will brush their own teeth, put on their own toothpaste and gaze into the mirror instead of into my eyes. So it is an honor today to count Ellie’s 10 bottom teeth and ten upper teeth and the lil’ bumps indicating the second year molars are coming in. I can smell their sweet baby breath and be up close to their chubby cheeks. I breathe in the mixture of the scents leftover from dinner, their kid toothpaste and outdoor air on their skin.
Someday they will grab a diet coke from the fridge, a handful of chips and run out the door, late for some social event, anxious to be somewhere else with someone else. Just for today I portion out their food, putting into neat little organized piles of protein, fruit, veggie and starch. Purple and pink plastic glasses are adorned with a straw for fun and it makes it more enjoyable to drink.
I want to suspend these moments in time. A time where I am needed, loved unconditionally and I am their source (or we are each other’s source) of happiness, safety, calm and care.
I promise. I vow. I will stop rushing through they day, the to do lists, the errands, the chores around the house because there will always be future errands to run, dishes to be washed but there will be less people around to do that with and for.
Be in the moment Betsy. Go there. Lose control. Take out all the toys at once; mix the Fischer Price Little People with the Barbie dolls. Go nuts and bust out the Polly Pockets and the blocks at-the-same-time. Scatter paper on purpose, let crayons roll off the table without scurrying to pick them up, have cookie crumbs fall to the floor and leave the Shark vac in the closet. Lose a puzzle piece but still do the puzzle. Roll, squish and push playdough and if it doesn’t get put back in its cup let it harden without letting it harden my soul. Get into the bathtub with the girls, make foamy hairy dos out of shampoo and soapy beards, too.
I’m missing out on the moments and I’m right here.
Someday-
Is
Today.
And today I will try and just “be”…
Tuesday, July 17th, 2007 by May
Here’s the first of four essays on motherhood we’re posting by students of Kate Hopper’s Mother Words class at the Loft Literary Center. This one is by Betsy Conway of Edina.
Today I crave a lot of me time, alone time, time to be myself and do what I want to do. And I feel bad. I’m scared I’m too selfish.
I feel bad for wanting to wake up on my own without Ellie walking in at 5:30 in the morning or Lily asking to walk her to the potty. I feel bad for thinking why can’t I just read the mail without someone tugging at my leg? Why can’t I just lie in bed without someone playing with my hair? It scares me to think that way about my own kids.
But what really scares me is that someday…
Someday their bedroom doors will be shut more often than open and I will not know nor will they want me to know what is going on in there. Just for today I relish being able to walk into their rooms together, choose books to read from their bookshelves and rifle through drawers picking out an outfit. Right now the only time their bedroom door is shut is when I have carefully closed it to keep out the nighttime sounds of a reality T.V., a phone ringing or murmured adult conversations.
Someday they will brush their own teeth, put on their own toothpaste and gaze into the mirror instead of into my eyes. So it is an honor today to count Ellie’s 10 bottom teeth and ten upper teeth and the lil’ bumps indicating the second year molars are coming in. I can smell their sweet baby breath and be up close to their chubby cheeks. I breathe in the mixture of the scents leftover from dinner, their kid toothpaste and outdoor air on their skin.
Someday they will grab a diet coke from the fridge, a handful of chips and run out the door, late for some social event, anxious to be somewhere else with someone else. Just for today I portion out their food, putting into neat little organized piles of protein, fruit, veggie and starch. Purple and pink plastic glasses are adorned with a straw for fun and it makes it more enjoyable to drink.
I want to suspend these moments in time. A time where I am needed, loved unconditionally and I am their source (or we are each other’s source) of happiness, safety, calm and care.
I promise. I vow. I will stop rushing through they day, the to do lists, the errands, the chores around the house because there will always be future errands to run, dishes to be washed but there will be less people around to do that with and for.
Be in the moment Betsy. Go there. Lose control. Take out all the toys at once; mix the Fischer Price Little People with the Barbie dolls. Go nuts and bust out the Polly Pockets and the blocks at-the-same-time. Scatter paper on purpose, let crayons roll off the table without scurrying to pick them up, have cookie crumbs fall to the floor and leave the Shark vac in the closet. Lose a puzzle piece but still do the puzzle. Roll, squish and push playdough and if it doesn’t get put back in its cup let it harden without letting it harden my soul. Get into the bathtub with the girls, make foamy hairy dos out of shampoo and soapy beards, too.
I’m missing out on the moments and I’m right here.
Someday-
Is
Today.
And today I will try and just “be”…