Sometimes Motherhood

Motherhood used to sometimes be sleepless nights and baby snuggles. Sometimes, there were toddler tantrums and tickle monsters. Sometimes, sippy cups and potty training were of upmost concern. Sometimes, I miss those days that seem so long ago and, yet, just like yesterday. Most of the time, though, I am quite happy right here where we are now in the midst of middle school, high school, and teenager-hood.

Now, our sometimes are a little bit different now . . 

Sometimes you say, "Mom I need to stay after school for . . . ." and, then I forget. 

Sometimes, I skip something I'd like to do to drive you to your activities instead. 
Really, I don't mind.
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Sometimes, we eat frozen pizza or cereal for dinner because I don't have the energy, time, or creativity to make herbed risotto with spinach and sun-dried tomato marinated chicken. You wouldn't eat it if I did. 

Sometimes, we sit around the dinner table eating pancakes for supper and we laugh until         we cry at some silly something.

Those are the moments I treasure.

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Sometimes, our house is a wreck with laundry piled up, dishes in the sink, shoes on the floor, and strange smells emanating from your bedrooms. I get frustrated and wish you were more responsible and tidy.

Sometimes, home is the only place I want to be, surrounded by all of you, each in your separate rooms or totally disregarding my personal space as you sit next to me on the couch while we watch something ridiculous on TV. 

These are moments I savor.

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Sometimes, you are moody, and sulky, and you spend all day in your room being excessively teenager-y. You are teenagers, after all.

Sometimes, I get angry when people assume that raising teens is miserable task.

Most of the time, it's not. 

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Sometimes, I am reeling at how fast you are growing up and I worry about the future. How do we pick the right school? Are you safe when you drive? Are your friends good friends?

Sometimes, I cannot wait to see what the future holds; what amazing things you will do; what amazing people you will be. 

I look forward to finding out. 

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Sometimes, motherhood is hard.

Sometimes, motherhood is fun. 

Sometimes, motherhood is stressful.

Sometimes, motherhood is inspiring. 

Sometimes, motherhood is frightening.

Sometimes, motherhood is rewarding.

Most of the time, it's all of the above. 

Am I Holding Her Back?

My youngest daughter is six.  She is loving and affectionate.  She loves to hug and cuddle.  She still carries her "blankies" with her around the house and she is by far the "girliest" one of my three daughters.

A couple weeks ago, she came home from school and told me she didn't want me to fix her hair in pigtails anymore.  Instead, she was only going to wear headbands.  When I asked why, she said one of her "friends" had told her that pigtails make her look like a baby and first graders aren't supposed to look like babies.

I think my heart broke into a thousand pieces.

After a while, though, I began to think about it a little more clearly.  You see, she IS my baby.  She is the youngest of my children; the last one to go through all the firsts; the only one that still climbs up in my lap for snuggles from time to time; the only that, up until that day, would dare to let me put her hair in pigtails - ever.

Honestly, there are times when I think "Why can't you be more independent?"  Like when I am trying to get all three girls out of the shower/bath or when I am trying to get all of them out the door to church.  Thinking back, her older sisters were more independent by the age of six than Emily is now. They had to be because when they were six I had at least one younger, needier child to tend to.

On the other hand, however, I am in no hurry to get rid of her blankies.  I adore the way she sucks on her tongue when she sleeps.  I love when she climbs in my lap and plants a big, wet kiss on my cheek.  I am sad that, having reached a size 7, I can no longer buy her the cute dresses she loves so much, but, instead, have to shop in the "big kids" section.  When we walk together, I still reach for her hand and I still find myself saying "Be Careful!" often.  And, I still like putting her hair in pigtails!

Oh, the cuteness!

In light of this recent event, though, I can't help but wonder if I'm holding her back??  Am I encouraging her to stay dependent and immature??  Do I really want her to grow up??

I actually look forward to the future and am anxious to see what life holds for my girls (in due time).  Careers?  Husbands? Children of their own?  I have no desire to have anymore children and can't even imagine doing the pregnant or newborn stage again.

But, maybe, just maybe, I am subconsciously clinging to the last little bit of baby I have left in my sweet Emily.  After all, she may not always be a baby, but she will always be the baby in our family.  Even when she's a grown woman, she will forever be my baby, as will her two older sisters.

Maybe I am holding her back just a bit.  But, you now what??  Maybe that's o.k.  There will be plenty of time for independence, mature fashion choices, and headbands in the future.  For now, I'm going to hang on to my "baby."

Here's to pigtails, and blankies, and sloppy, wet kisses!!  I hope they last just a little bit a whole lot longer!

To quote Taylor Swift (who I would rarely quote) . . . . . . . . .

"Oh Darling, don't you ever grow up!"