I love Mother's Day! I got to sleep until 9 and then was awoken by 4 kids yelling Happy Mother's Day and bringing me cards and presents (homemade) while Josh walked in behind them with my breakfast and coffee on a tray. A wind sock from Jocelyn, a ceramic dish from Morgan, cards and bubble bath from everyone, a gorgeous new necklace from Josh's folks, and then everyone was gone again while I enjoyed some time by myself eating chocolate chip pancakes.
I get very little time to myself. For those of you that have been to our house, you know that our master bath is right off our bedroom with no door (or wall), so closing the door isn't an option. This means that I shower with little hands banging on the door, and more often than I can count, someone has not been able to wait for me to finish peeing before needing a hug or a kiss for their boo boo. When I get home from work at night, there's no secret door or anything. Instead I'm greeted by my many screaming fans. Eating breakfast, by myself (and, in fact, eating the whole thing myself!), was quite a treat.
When I finally came downstairs (I took my time!), the kitchen and dining room and living room were all cleaned up and almost all the kids were wearing pants. Josh had been busy!
I do love Mother's Day for less obvious reasons though. It reminds me to reflect upon how much my kids rock and how much they've taught me.
Timothy is all grown up - 5 feet tall and using deodorant and stridex. He played his first 9 holes of golf with Josh last weekend and got hit in the elbow but managed to shake it off and finish. He was the first to teach me that boys are just as cuddly as girls, maybe more so. Sensitive and caring, if he becomes a corporate schmuck, I'll know it was society that beat it out of him. Timothy was a rules kid - everything had rules, and the rules changed randomly and didn't always make sense. I learned to be patient, to listen, to anticipate, to love in a new way. Now that he's a, hmmm, a pre-teen? Now he's taught me that boys finish maturing at age 8, and that even if you remind them every morning for 2 years to take a shower, if you skip a day, he'll forget. And if you forget to say use soap and put on clean underwear, he'll forget that too.
Morgan Morgan, my permanent 3 year old. Morgan's taught me the most important lesson of all - to live in the moment. I used to plan, to make detailed plans of what would happen today, this week, next year. But then came Morgan, and sometimes it's too scary to think of what the future holds. And so I just enjoy today. It has its downsides - I have no idea what's in my 401k and no idea how I'll pay for college. But the upsides make it worth it. I enjoy the small victories, I enjoy right now, I just enjoy my life, and I enjoy my Morgan. With his teacher's help, I made Morgan a morning picture schedule. So far it says - bathroom, underwear, t-shirt. We went over it yesterday. Today when I came downstairs, he was in fact wearing underwear and a t-shirt. Tonight Morgan was on the couch and I clipped his toenails and then did this-little-piggy. He loved it, so we did it again. By then Jesse was jealous so he had to have a turn too. The two of them sat there taking turns, and Morgan was just as excited when it was Jesse's turn as he was when it was his (Jesse definitely preferred Jesse’s turn). We played for quite a while. Eventually I plopped myself down on the couch and Morgan cuddled up to me and kissed me on the forehead and said "that's so wonderful!" Now that's a good day.
Jocelyn is my princess. A keen and confident manipulator, she knows how to get what she wants. She taught me that it is not society's fault that girls cry. Girls just cry. A lot. And not always for any apparent reason. She gets excited about art supplies and toe nail polish. She changes her clothes at least 3 times a day, sometimes more like 13, and we actually wear through dress-up clothes (provided they are of the princess variety). She's taught me to share, to share the spotlight, to share being the alpha female (perhaps even to concede it), and to share my dessert. She compliments my clothes and shoes and hair. She jumps in front of every camera and talks to strangers. On Friday a solicitor came to the door. He said "I'm Fred and I'm..." "Hi Fred!" she yelled, "I love you!"
And then there's Jesse. Smart as a whip that one, and just as emotional. We told him no more screaming from his door at night. So the first night after we told him that, I heard him talking but couldn't hear what we was saying. I went to the bottom of the stairs. He looked at me with big brown eyes - "I'm not screaming, just talking. More water?" Jesse has taught me that no matter how many kids you have, no matter how much you've seen or how well prepared you think you are, every child is unique. Every child has an approach that works with them, and every mother was put here to find it. It was Jesse that finally taught me not to judge - that cry it out works for some babies and not for others, that spanking or yelling or time out works for some kids and not others, that whatever impression we get of the frustrated mom in the grocery store slapping her child's hand - we don't know the back story, we don't know the circumstance, and it's none of our business. I cannot tell anyone how they should deal with their child, only how to deal with mine. Jesse likes to touch my neck. I can't stand it. If you had asked me 4 years ago what you should do if your child always touched your neck and you hated it, I would say you should slap his hand away and don't let him. But I wouldn't have known. I wouldn't have known that somehow he had grown attached to that spot, that touching it meant he was home, he was with you, he was safe. When Jesse is missing me or hurt or sad, he reaches up to touch my neck, and I let him. Does that make me a bad mother? A good mother? No, it makes me his mother.
And so today I relaxed and reflected and enjoyed my family. I hope you all did the same.
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