Love More, Judge Less
Yesterday, my seven year old said to me, “I want to play Legos upstairs.” I glanced up from my phone, and said, “ok, go ahead.” He replied, “No. With you.” WITH YOU. Both of my kids say this all the time. If they go upstairs, out in the backyard, or even to the bathroom, they want me
My youngest son started Kindergarten five weeks ago. He was one month away from his fifth birthday—a peanut in my book—and separating from us at drop-off time was difficult. Most mornings, he cried. And, my older son, his big brother, started putting his arm around the back of his neck and lovingly guiding him in
…a funny thing happens as you get older (besides hangovers becoming more painful): you start to prioritize things differently.
And so, with each moment that I long to live again or live for a little longer, I also yearn to experience what will be … all that has yet to come. And, while I may hold on to every last for as long as I possibly can, I am also embracing every new first.
Last night, as I was cooking dinner, my mind wandered onto thoughts of my grandmother as it often does. I started thinking about how full her life has been. She worked. She owned a business. She raised a family. She is an amazing friend. She was involved in politics. She served the town in various capacities, etc., and yet, at the end of every day, the thing that she feels pressed to do is cook dinner for “the kids.”
Four years ago today, a tiny baby boy with an incongruously long name made me a mommy.
I have heard many parents say that when they are with their children, they long for a break. And when they have a break, they long for their children. I am not immune to this by any means. Many days are spent yelling and not because I do not want to do better. But because sometimes I am too tired or overwhelmed. And sometimes, I just do not know how. But please know that every night I long for a better tomorrow.
The expectation versus the reality of having children is wildly different. Every stage is a challenge and nothing at all like you imagined. Above all, it’s harder than you ever expected. There are so many parts of motherhood that just plain suck, and it’s ok to hate them.
We started heading toward the front of the building when a school staff member looked at my son and shouted to us over a sea of children (who looked much larger than my five-year old), “Kindergartener?” I nodded yes, she motioned him forward, and off they went into the building … And my tears came. And they came.
My husband and I say we are proud of our kids all the time, every day. We end the night with the phrase every night. We thought it was important. I think it still is… But today I asked Lucy if she was proud of herself (after a great day of school and being particularly helpful throughout the afternoon). She said, “no.”
