Category Archives: Balance

First Day and Everyday

Posted in Baby, Balance, Children, Home, Kid Stuff, Kids, Mommydom, motherhood, Parenting by

Pickle

First grade starts next week.

First grade for my kind, freckled thinker who is finding his voice, and up at night pondering the merits of inboard motors.

He will be fine.  What choice does he have other than to be fine, to navigate his life on his own, at least a little bit, and figure out the way of the world through the small, significant, triumphs and heartbreaks of childhood.

The skinny-legged boy with the too-big backpack (aren’t they all?) will walk into school and I will drive away.  And get a coffee.  And drive to work.  I will not worry.

I am ready for the big moments.

I am ready for first steps, lost teeth, first days.  I am ready to watch them glide away without training wheels, to sound out books on their own, to tie their shoes.

My tender heart catches when I least expect it.

When the biggest helps the littlest with his shoes.

When the middle uses a big word I haven’t heard her use before.

When the wobbly toddler gait all of a sudden becomes smooth and coordinated.

We may mark the time with first steps and first days.  But it is those tiny changes, the ones we almost don’t see, that add up to people, our people, growing a hair’s width every night.  Our little people whose lives slowly and beautifully start to become their own, separate from us.  One millimeter, one second at a time.

In the cool dark, the clock ticks and they sing our bedtime songs with lyrics of their own.  And then a quiet pause as they drift away into dreams that are theirs alone.

 

 

Do your best with the rest.

Posted in Balance, Beauty, Miscellany, Mommydom by

There is so much to say, but I am unable to start. Like inhaling to begin my sentence, but pausing, breath held, until I simply exhale, rather than say anything. We are in that space in between, right now. Life in the ellipse, the pause in between, the search for the words. The pause to let the frenetic ticker-tape thoughts slow and drift and settle quietly.

*****

This morning, I thought I’d settle in this evening, carols and PJs on, and write a bit about a lovely suggestion written by a relative, George. George is navigating his new world where a family member’s scary, unexpected health emergency has prompted reflection of the most heartfelt kind. He wrote:

“Please let this experience remind you to hold the people you love (and who love you) close and tight as soon and as often as you can, taking nothing for granted. Appreciate that so much of life is completely beyond our control, and do your best with the rest.”

Appreciate that so much of life is completely beyond our control, and do your best with the rest.

*****

I rocked my Plum to sleep tonight. She was warm, heavy-lidded, and felt so big in my arms, transitioning from infant to little person in inches, pounds, sounds and teeth. My dear little person.

And, yes, I held her a little longer, a little tighter.

And I kissed her sticky cheek, acknowledging my luck, reminded, yet again, again, again, that we are all balancing on the lip of loss.

*****

The crazy man I saw on the corner the other day, the one who was watching his own parade, or bike race, or procession as I considered locking my car doors, someone had rocked him, too. He was somebody’s baby. And someone soothed him, fed him, sung to him. Someone had kissed his sticky cheek, and filled their heart with hopes and wishes just for him.

We are all somebody’s baby. Perhaps we don’t all get everything we need, but I am certain, that to get here, we were all quietly rocked, fed, warmed, our hair smoothed gently at least once. At least once.

All of those little blossoming people who were probably so excited for Santa.

All of those adults, with pasts, presents, futures, people who loved them, people they loved.

And the shooter, too. He was somebody’s baby, too.

We forget that. We forget that we all begin, and are at base, fragile and temporary. But this reminds us like an electric shock, a punch to the ribs. And as we pull those we love closer, tighter, we look for walls to build, or armor to wear. I wish that even in our fear and sadness we would also remember that we are more alike than we are different. That our duty is to each other. Even if life is scary and unfair. Because it is both.

We are all somebody’s baby.

*****

George was right. And it bears repeating: so much of life is completely beyond our control.

But the rest. We get to do our best with the rest. Even when our hearts are breaking, even when our worlds are crumbling, even when we are knocked off our balance on that lip.

Hug your babies a little bit tighter tonight. And by “your babies,” I mean all of us, each of us. Because that is how we do our best with the rest.

After Eight: An Ode to Motherhood

Posted in Balance, Juggling, Miscellany, Mommydom by

After Eight: An Ode to Motherhood

*****
The cool night has arrived and day is drawing to a close.
The smell of sweet, clean babies, it still lingers in your nose.
The house is finally quiet, no more whines or yells or cries.
The kids are bedded down, and they’ve closed their heavy eyes.
No one wants more water, one more book or one more hug.
It’s time for some relaxing. Wait, what IS that on the rug?
Ignore it, step right over, don’t you worry your poor head.
Change your clothes, and wash your face and get yourself to bed.

*****
The playroom has exploded, there are dishes in the sink.
The laundry hangs from backs of chairs, the cat’s covered in ink.
Your cell phone jingles softly from its hiding spot, but where?
You rub your eyes, and scratch your head. There’s oatmeal in your hair.
The oatmeal was for breakfast, which means it’s been there all day.
Now you know why grocery clerks were looking at you that way.
Looking ‘round you wonder just how long clean-up will take.
Stop wondering, go brush your teeth, ‘twill be there when you wake.

*****
Slumping down onto the couch, a comfy little nest!
But if you went to bed right now it’d be eight hours rest.
Though Project Runway’s on, and you could sit, relax, unwind.
And have a glass of wine perhaps? To ease your harried mind?
You note your stomach’s rumbles, and you only then recall
Dinner was an orphaned nugget, dipped in ranch, that’s all.
You ponder ice cream? Toast? Or chips, piled in a heap.
Forget the snack, forget the wine and get yourself to sleep.

*****
You make a hard deal with yourself, before the day’s complete.
One load of laundry, one show, some bills and a small bite to eat.
But once you’re paying bills you note the budget needs re-doing,
And while you’re at it, darn, those kitchen chairs do need regluing.
While washing gluey hands you think you’ll just wash a few dishes.
But whoops, cupcakes forgotten for tomorrow’s birthday wishes!
Too late to bake, so to the store to find cupcakey treats?
Forget it! Buy them in the morn. Go climb between your sheets!

*****
You climb the stairs, exhausted when – oh shoot! – today’s the day!
The deadline to sign up the kids for music, swim, ballet!
While writing out the checks you find some paperwork neglected.
Tomorrow is school picture day, outfits to be collected.
But all is dirty, so one more load gets tossed into the wash,
And while you wait for it to run, might as well mop and floss.
A few more hours, chores half done, you give up the good fight.
Yes, there is still goo on the rug, but Mama, say goodnight!