Those of you lucky enough to have offspring know exactly which one I am talking about. I’m pretty sure that once upon a time I read a book by James Dobson titled ‘Parenting isn’t for Cowards”. At the time I thought, yes, it IS tricky but its not all that bad. That was back when my kids thought I pretty much knew everything and could fix everything broken and solve every problem and I began to believe that, very possibly, I could.
But Im getting ahead of myself. Was my deepest secret ambition in life to be an astronaught, a doctor, an interior designer or to fall in love and marry my knight in shining armor (ah I crack myself up but more on that later) and to proceed to have a family? Indeed it was the latter. Well I thought I had married the man of my daydreams but lets face it, marriage is pretty hard too. It was a rude awakening for my husband the day he realized I wasn’t a princess either. But as I stated, another story for another day. We waited a safe and well planned 6 years before we decided it was time for children. I feel guilty telling you that the moment we discussed “do you think we should starting having kids”, I walked away from that conversation pregnant and by the time the doctor declared I was indeed ‘with child’ I had already gained 10 pounds. And so it went.
We as women get the most hallowed honor and privilege to grow a child inside of us. We are connected to these children in the most profound way. A mysterious way. Only God could have created the conception, pregnancy and birthing scenario. It really is most amazing if you stop and think about it. It requires two people to create another miracle with a beating heart, two insightful eyes, ten tiny little fingers, ten whimsical little toes, and a life giving umbilical cord. But only one carries it and so, we mothers, live our lives for 9 months with this amazing miracle growing inside us. We are bonding and caring for this wee life from the moment we find out. Its just amazing to me that another life can grow inside another human being. We eagerly await the day of arrival. We can’t wait to find out what this baby will look like and what his character will be. We can’t wait to rock that baby and cuddle her in our arms instead of our womb and nobody tells you about that incredible baby smell that will intoxicate you. Im not talking about the one coming from down under, I’m talking about the one that makes you want to rub your nose on their head and kiss them to pieces. You bring your bubbling bundle of joy home and begin to love side by side.
I was determined to be the ultimate best mother ever. I mean nobody starts out with the goal of being a bad mother, do they? I was going to raise these kids right. I would make sure they were snug as a bug in a rug safe. I would make sure that they never went without any of the necessities of life. I would make sure that they were well fed and well dressed and had the best education we could give them. I know he/she is only one week old but you think about these things. Right from the get go, I knew I wanted to be available to tuck my kids in each night and pray with them. I wanted to bake them cookies when they came home from school. I want to build them Lego towers and share the same Disney movie with them 57 times in a row. I wanted to take them to the zoo and Toys-r-us. Im not sure who enjoyed Toys-r-Us more, them or me. I wanted to make memories and traditions out of every holiday and birthday. I was intentional about my family goals and especially my kids goals. We took them camping and stuffed them full of smores and pancakes. We put them swimming lessons until they grew fins. Baseball – you bet. Figure skating – living vicariously. Ballet just so I could say my child was in the Nutcracker. Irish Dancing because I loved RiverDance. I invented a new way to find Easter eggs every single Easter. Fill their stocking at Christmas with glorious treasures. Baked them heart shaped cookies, cakes and pizza for Valentines. Canada Day jello. I was intentional about piano lessons and practicing. I knew that even if they did not evolve into famous maestros the music would enrich their lives.
I read to them and sang to them and rocked them as babies. Naturally I taught them to walk and to talk and to eat with utensils. I potty trained one and the other one trained themselves. I made sure they got the proper medical attention when needed. I was their barber and hairstylist. I sewed clothes for them. I had heaps of fun designing and sewing beautiful chintz dresses for my little girl. I was an accomplice to many amazing science projects. Most often the favorite part of the day was to tuck them into bed and pray with them. If I didn’t pray they would call me on it. Sometimes I did forget, because frankly, even though I wanted to be the perfect mother, I wasn’t always. True confessions, on a few occasions I just quickly sang them this little ditty from Sesame Street…Sweetums lay your ugly head, down up on your wretched bed, close your eyes and go to sleep and don’t get up you ugly creep…and rushed off to do the dishes, the laundry, the vacuuming…the crying.
As I reflect on everything I did and didn’t do as a mother, it occurs to me my motivation for almost every loving service I provided to them was ‘safety’. Their safety. And when I think about it now that they are grown that is still my ultimate motivator. My kids safety and their growth. I firmly believed that it was my duty and blessing to keep them safe and to make sure they felt loved. Truly loved. I poured myself into this endeavor with my whole being until I had drained myself dry and then I squeezed out a couple drops more.
Its interesting to realize that safety and growth are not actually synonymous.
(To be continued)
The Red Plaid Apron 