Tuesday, July 19, 2011

In My Heart


the little lady running at the all-comers track meet
and little Pierre, I mean Henry, all bundled up to take the recycling out in the rain


I go back and forth about how to blog (and sometimes about whether to blog at all). Sometimes I feel too guarded and private to share much of anything personal. Other times I feel like, "what's the point of sharing if it's not personal?"

Tonight I am feeling introspective.

Among other things, I am thinking about how absolutely precious my time with my children is. Having said that, I worry that you might get the wrong idea about my life as a mom - let me assure you, it is riddled with all the same kinds of frustrations that your mothering is filled with. My days with my children are not free of strife or conflict. We have plenty of both. This morning Henry unrolled an entire roll of toilet paper to use the brown paper tube as a pirate scope and then ate a bowl of greasy noodles on the living room floor and left a trail of pasta shards and basil leaves on the carpet. Lily was extraordinarily uncooperative. And I was magnificently cross and condescending about all of it.

By noon my heart was heavy with sorrow and remorse. But we had company and plans and more company and more plans and I never really found a quiet moment to apologize for my impatience.

We were out late this evening visiting with family and didn't get home until after ten o'clock. When we got home both kids were tired, but still sweet. We brushed teeth and prayed and then, even though it was nearly eleven o'clock, I made both of them crawl up on the bed and snuggle with me. I needed to rub their skin and smell them and kiss them and tell them all the things I love about them. I needed to apologize for getting so upset about the toilet paper and the pasta. Sweet Henry looked up at me and said, "Wait...did that happen this morning? It feels like that was a couple days ago! This day was long!"

Some days are long, but time is racing. The phases are fleeting. It's only legos and backyard sleep-outs and princess slippers for so long. It hurts somewhere deep to think about this phase coming to an end. I know there will be joy in the next phases. Of course there will be. But this, what we have right here, now, is so full of wonder and creativity and discovery and joy and a hundred more shiny, good things. Sometimes I feel like no matter how present I try to be, I can never soak it up good enough. No matter how purposefully I try to live in these moments I will still reach back after them nostalgically when they're gone.

10 comments:

jeanine said...

This spoke to me! Thank you Emily. My 6-year-old is already getting too big for my liking! It's kind of sad to think about.

Amber said...

I'm glad you posted something personal. For some reason, it's easier to connect to your story because of the fact that it's not censored, or using code names. I don't know; maybe I'm weird. But for a minute, I felt like I was listening to a neighbor. Thanks.

Joan said...

Such a sweet, meaningful message, Em. Thank you for sharing your heart.

Melissa said...

Oh boy. I am having very tender feelings while reading this, for you and for myself. I know we do not know each other personally, so I don't know if it's weird for you to hear from strangers when they wax philosophical? :)

I am so happy to know that you have days like we all do, and what speaks to me is that you think and feel the way I sometimes do. Good for you to reflect and feel remorse and to want to quickly make amends. That happens to me a lot, and just the other night, I sent my girls off to bed without having spent any quality moments with them that day. It was after eleven, and I couldn't stand it, so I went into their room and spent a few minutes with each one. My oldest girl spent 15 mins straight telling me about Pokemon. She actually told me it felt nice that I would listen to her about her favorite pastime because everyone else makes fun of her when she talks about it. My younger one just wanted hugs and kisses. The time is going by TOO fast. My Pokemon girl turns 12 tomorrow and goes in to YW next Sunday. I'm not ready. I want more time.

You are doing a great job, and you are very wise to cherish the time. I have cherished it, and no matter how much you do, it goes to fast. But at least you won't look back and wish you'd done more. You'll know you lived with your eyes and heart wide open. That's what it's all about. :)

Christina said...

Oh, I can relate. Thank you for sharing the thoughts in your heart- I think they spoke to the mother heart of every woman.

Alicia Fish said...

Thank you so much for sharing from your heart. My first kid is 4 months old and I am trying to soak it all in, even when I am so tired. Thank you for reminding us all!

Abbie said...

Emily, you are never allowed to stop personal blogging. Deal? Sign it in blood. The things you share have helped me enjoy motherhood in a big way.

Sarah H said...

so true! beautifully said Em.

Heather said...

So beautifully put. And it speaks right to me. I completely agree and thank you for the great reminder! I could not love this more.

Bloom said...

I have been feeling this a lot lately too, Em. It feels weird to already mourn and feel nostalgic for the present, but that's how it feels. It's all so fleeting.

love you
anne