Something truly amazing happened a few minutes ago.
Carefully, directly, firmly, and lovingly, I sent all my babies to bed for a nap. I sent my two eldest upstairs to their napping destinations, promising in a gentle warning manner to be up soon to check on them. I heard them head upstairs, and less than a minute later, I heard...nothing at all. After treating myself to a delectable chocolate-oozing sugar-pumped brownie (and sneaking my 7-month old a small taste) I also gently laid him down in a room to doze. He didn't protest to my amazement. Just watched me slowly back out of the room and close the door.
We've been in the middle of a nap war for a few months now, and sometimes with the last ounce of energy in my body I feebly ask them to go upstairs and place themselves in their beds, on the floor, wherever they can be separated and close their little glittering eyes and quiet their energetic hearts. My husband and I both dread heading upstairs numerous times in one afternoon or even at bedtime, sporadically hearing little feet pounding across the floor. I've found my daughter playing with my favorite (new!) lotion, smearing it all over her bed, the floor, the wall (!) and even once found her putting hair cream all over the top of her hair. Actually, I didn't find her, I smelled it all the way downstairs and "followed my nose." Her hair was so greasy it was all I could do not to immediately dump her in the tub to wash it out. But I was too tired!
Yes, my little Kendall Bean is some kind of something. She is oblivious to loving spankings, harsh warning words to stay put and even me pleading with her to please listen to me so I don't have to discipline her. She looks at me with her big beautiful blue-gray eyes and nods and says "Ok Mommy." I sigh with relief, heading back downstairs to catch my breath. Next thing I know...little feet thumping across the ceiling. My husband and I take turns heading upstairs each night, desperate for how to keep her in her bed without forever scarring her little plump bottom with our handprints. My husband has even joked that some lights must not be on in her head. I immediately rebuke him and tell him our baby is brilliant. She is just very strong-willed and hard-headed.
So to have all three angels down at the same time is almost a miracle. They are beautiful, sweet, and I love staying home with them simply to have some time with them, to watch them grow, to scold and lecture about hitting and throwing and saying "I don't like you" to one another, and to shriek in horror when one of them trips over their baby brother crawling along after them. At the same time, I long for my computer, to write, to post, to update, to research, to scour pictures of beautiful things and beautiful people, to connect socially with others around the world, and even sometimes wait expectantly for naptime just to do my hair, paint my nails, eat junk food without having to share, and to recharge so I can be ready to love them again with angst when they hop up ready to wear me out again.
Everyone says it goes by so fast. I'm glad I'm here for most of it. What a salve to my aching heart, that my babies are here with me, growing, and that I'm all in, trying my best to provide for them great instruction, example, love, grace, mercy, forgiveness, and tell them how much they are loved. Part of my success in my life's work happens here at home, where I learn to be open and willing to learn as their caretaker and precedent of self-esteem. What an honor, and what responsibility. I know that some, not all, understand the double-edged sword of parenting: the pain that comes from wishing you had a parent like yourself as a kid, and the responsibility that comes with parenting logically with love and not emotionally from a hurting haunting past. I can't stress how grateful I am to be called "Mom", and sometimes how scared I am. But I know I have strength from a source greater than myself, and that I can do all things with that strength. I will be open with my kids, pouring out my heart, and being available to them through it all. I know I'm in for a long road, and I embrace it.
They are mine and I am theirs, how great is the Father's love for me.
Carefully, directly, firmly, and lovingly, I sent all my babies to bed for a nap. I sent my two eldest upstairs to their napping destinations, promising in a gentle warning manner to be up soon to check on them. I heard them head upstairs, and less than a minute later, I heard...nothing at all. After treating myself to a delectable chocolate-oozing sugar-pumped brownie (and sneaking my 7-month old a small taste) I also gently laid him down in a room to doze. He didn't protest to my amazement. Just watched me slowly back out of the room and close the door.
We've been in the middle of a nap war for a few months now, and sometimes with the last ounce of energy in my body I feebly ask them to go upstairs and place themselves in their beds, on the floor, wherever they can be separated and close their little glittering eyes and quiet their energetic hearts. My husband and I both dread heading upstairs numerous times in one afternoon or even at bedtime, sporadically hearing little feet pounding across the floor. I've found my daughter playing with my favorite (new!) lotion, smearing it all over her bed, the floor, the wall (!) and even once found her putting hair cream all over the top of her hair. Actually, I didn't find her, I smelled it all the way downstairs and "followed my nose." Her hair was so greasy it was all I could do not to immediately dump her in the tub to wash it out. But I was too tired!
Yes, my little Kendall Bean is some kind of something. She is oblivious to loving spankings, harsh warning words to stay put and even me pleading with her to please listen to me so I don't have to discipline her. She looks at me with her big beautiful blue-gray eyes and nods and says "Ok Mommy." I sigh with relief, heading back downstairs to catch my breath. Next thing I know...little feet thumping across the ceiling. My husband and I take turns heading upstairs each night, desperate for how to keep her in her bed without forever scarring her little plump bottom with our handprints. My husband has even joked that some lights must not be on in her head. I immediately rebuke him and tell him our baby is brilliant. She is just very strong-willed and hard-headed.
So to have all three angels down at the same time is almost a miracle. They are beautiful, sweet, and I love staying home with them simply to have some time with them, to watch them grow, to scold and lecture about hitting and throwing and saying "I don't like you" to one another, and to shriek in horror when one of them trips over their baby brother crawling along after them. At the same time, I long for my computer, to write, to post, to update, to research, to scour pictures of beautiful things and beautiful people, to connect socially with others around the world, and even sometimes wait expectantly for naptime just to do my hair, paint my nails, eat junk food without having to share, and to recharge so I can be ready to love them again with angst when they hop up ready to wear me out again.
Everyone says it goes by so fast. I'm glad I'm here for most of it. What a salve to my aching heart, that my babies are here with me, growing, and that I'm all in, trying my best to provide for them great instruction, example, love, grace, mercy, forgiveness, and tell them how much they are loved. Part of my success in my life's work happens here at home, where I learn to be open and willing to learn as their caretaker and precedent of self-esteem. What an honor, and what responsibility. I know that some, not all, understand the double-edged sword of parenting: the pain that comes from wishing you had a parent like yourself as a kid, and the responsibility that comes with parenting logically with love and not emotionally from a hurting haunting past. I can't stress how grateful I am to be called "Mom", and sometimes how scared I am. But I know I have strength from a source greater than myself, and that I can do all things with that strength. I will be open with my kids, pouring out my heart, and being available to them through it all. I know I'm in for a long road, and I embrace it.
They are mine and I am theirs, how great is the Father's love for me.
Comments
Post a Comment