It’s been a while since I’ve written publicly about what is on my mind and heart. Life has surely kept me busy with its twists and turns. Ever a fickle character, there has been constant change in my story. Nothing you can do except take it one day at a time.
In my previous stint as a CT Working Moms writer, my children were miniature versions of the people they are now and during that time, I wrote a lot about my never-ending quest to be a good mom. I made valiant efforts to always be prepared with healthy snacks and seasonally appropriate clothing, plan play dates with the friends I made on my kids’ behalf (i.e. arranged friendships with the children of my mom friends) and orchestrate cute family outings. I eventually relented to the tidal waves of to dos and societal standards in the spirit of good enough is good enough. Ah, sweet surrender!
Fast forward to now and, well, we’ve moved on…
My boys wouldn’t be caught dead in winter coats unless they are snowboarding.
Play dates are now hangs and my involvement is limited to the ride share I provide.
Family outings primarily occur at soccer fields and hockey rinks around New England and that’s only if the scheduling gods cooperate.
The changes in my children have been stunning, not just in their growth charts as my oldest is now taller than me by a solid five inches and counting, but also in how their personalities are expressed, what they want and who they need me to be. These shifts have impacted our relationships with different battles consuming my days. Bigger choices. Bigger problems. Navigating friendships, increased demands at school and the struggle for age-appropriate independence help keep my debate skills strong.
Theoretically, as a more seasoned mom, I’m better equipped to work through the issues I face, but the game keeps changing. I’m experiencing the unexpected on a daily basis just like new mom me did back in 2009. Most days, I am a mere bystander to their lives, forcing them to hear my unsolicited commentary about our little place in this big world. I pray that even if I’m only granted five minutes of one-on-one time in their rooms, some of my “wisdom” will stick. I help them find their way through missteps as I apologize for those times when I don’t get it right. They are still learning. I am too. I hope we can continue to offer each other grace even when grace is not the easy choice.
I hold on tight and take it all in because as challenging as it is when we are deep in the parenting trenches, I know that, like every stage, this too is fleeting. I write to document the funny things my oldest says when he thinks I’m not listening during soccer carpool, the pride my middle guy exudes after he beats me in knee hockey, and the “Girl Squad” secrets shared between my daughter and me. I want to remember. Night after night my pen furiously scratches across my grid lined notebook slash journal in attempt to accurately describe every giggle and glance, I encounter knowing that the perfect combination of adjectives to capture the beautiful lives enfolding before me does not exist.
Still, I try.
One thought on “It’s me. Hi.”
Anissa I love this! I relate to every single word. My kiddo is older now, too, and I’m experiencing all of the same feelings and challenges as you. Thank you for this. It helps me know I’m not alone.