When we moved to Atlanta, life grabbed me by the collar and gave me a good spin around the room. Before I knew what was happening we were involved in all kinds of activities, from velodrome racing to choir, to chess club, to 5K's, to art lessons, to cub scouts. I guess I got a little overexcited about the fun opportunities of living in a big city. Over the past few weeks several of those activities have wound down for the winter and life has returned to a slightly more relaxed pace. But I've noticed something disturbing: during those months of running ragged, after days of getting lost on roads I didn't know, racing from activity to activity, frantically checking homework and slapping dinner on the table, I had formed a pretty consistent habit of tossing Marley into her crib, collapsing on the couch and then shooing the boys off to bed without much of a goodnight routine. And those were the nights I actually participated, as opposed to watching from the couch while poor Eric handled it solo.
As I thought about this I decided that there are certain points in the day that make a lasting impression on my kids. I pride myself in my ability to always look (and usually be) ecstatic to see them when they wake up in the morning. Or....when I wake up in the morning I should say:). I usually send them out the door with a smile and a kiss and a genuine wish that they have a wonderful day. When they get home from school I'm ready with snacks and inquiries about their day. My favorite thing to ask is "did anything interesting happen at school?"- that always gets them talking.
But then. Sometime during dinner prep I fizzle. By bedtime I'm totally out of steam and feel like I have nothing left. But the other night, as I plunked Marley in the crib and turned to sneak out, her sweet, soft "night night" tugged at my heart and pulled me back into the room. I sat down on the floor and started singing. Half an hour later I heard her breath in that way babies breathe when they've just fallen asleep- mothers know it. I smiled to think of my voice carrying her safely to dreamland. Then I went into the boys' room and read them a chapter from their book and kissed them goodnight in their beds. And even though I was still tired and still drained, I felt so good. Like I had really done my job that day.
From now on, I want everyday to end that way. I can't be a perfect mom all day long, but I can end the day with songs, stories and kisses.
3 comments:
I think this is the best kind of mother analysis--not the beat yourself up kind, but the "what do I want my kids to remember from this moment" kind. It sounds wonderful. And, in the interest of full disclosure, I have almost never done bedtime. That is Russ's domain! I feel like if I get dinner on the table and survive a family meal, I have reached my limit! ;)
How do you get your kids to leave you alone until you're ready to get up?! I need to work on the moment mentality.
This is so what I needed to hear right now. The ends of the days are really (really) challenging for me in the same ways that you described.
In a random conversation exchange between my cousin, mom and myself, my mom wrote, "There aren't words to express how I feel about being a mother. You hear many people warning young mothers, "Don't loose sight of your needs and who you are." While there may be some merit in this thought, in my life I choose to believe that who I am IS a wife and mother....all other things are secondary."
Reading this, and knowing how much I strive to be more like her as a mother, I haven't been able to get this out of my head for the past few days, and your post goes RIGHT along with it. I think I may be one of those mothers that gets caught up more in the "don't loose sight in your needs and who you are." I even cried myself to sleep last night realizing that I hadn't taken even a moment in my crazily busy day yesterday to look into Carson's eyes. Thanks, Katie. Now, I'm going to go play with my kids instead of finishing my blog reading. :)
Post a Comment