When my youngest daughter, Mary, says, "Hold me mama! I have no legs!" I can assure you she is exaggerating. Although they're slender as Q-tips, they certainly exist and are more than capable of supporting her twenty-some pounds of body weight. My brother, Bobby, once used the word "spider" to describe her, so slight and limb-y and agile she is. More than anything, Mary loves to be near me, on me, fused to my hip, which is as wonderful and sweet as is it challenging. "Leave her alone," I scold her brothers and sister, "She's just a baby." But she isn't - isn't a baby any more, and I need to move on, now, and come to terms with that reality, for her sake, and her siblings' sake, and for my own.
When my oldest, Elijah, was three-years-old, I leaned way too far in the opposite direction, pulling my hair out in frustration over his inability to regulate his oft explosive emotions, sit still for long periods of time, eat whatever was served to him, or get over his "drop to your knees and wrap your arms over your head" kind of fear of elderly people (oh yeah, it was totally horrifying). But then he blossomed. He outgrew what I mistakenly assumed were character flaws. Elijah matured and gained control simply by aging, and catching up on some much needed sleep. "This too shall pass," I learned, and thus my other children were spared my picking apart of their ages and stages with an impossibly rigid and narrow fine-tooth comb.
These days I'm struggling to do more than, "get through it." Between our work, school, and social schedules, the pace around here has picked up dramatically and I'm smudging the boundaries some in order to keep from getting plowed under. "I'll get you dressed, clean up your mess, and compromise on our agreement regarding where we can and cannot eat food because I'm faster and more efficient, and following through on all of the rules takes forever.” I'm already two days behind on everything, just in general.
Somewhere in that vast and treacherous chasm between coddling and demanding too much, lies the priceless and elusive "holy grail" of mothering: consistent parental perfection, unaffected by illness, exhaustion, hormonal shifts or time constraints. What I am starting to suspect, however, is that that sought after prize is not really so much tangible as it is mirage-like, always barely out of reach no matter how long and hard you run at it. Some days I'll be good at mixing kindness, selflessness and productivity with firmness and discipline, and on other days I won't. Perhaps a more rewarding goal on which to expend my energy would be learning to accept or even embrace that fact of life with grace and humility.
24th anniversary
4 weeks ago
2 comments:
This post describes my own life so perfectly! My eldest is 8, and has been subject to much fine-tooth combing from me, poor child. My youngest, 2 years old, would rather be in my arms than anywhere else on earth. I struggle to find that balance between letting go and holding on, and between requiring this behavior and excusing that behavior (and getting laundry and spelling tests done in the mean time).
About that boundary smudging, that's a big issue in my house, too. It takes 15 times longer for my 4 year old to do any given chore than it would take me... but I've been told by mothers of older children to put the time in now if I want to see her learn to do it alone and correctly down the road. Ah, patience is the number one lesson mothers learn (and at least for me, often the virtue most lacking). Let's pray for each other as we each walk this glorious and difficult path.
Thank you sweet Jeanette! Your kind words and empathy are such an encouragement!Let's do pray for each other and then believe in our potential, through Christ of course, to overcome what often ails us as mothers, and weighs us down!
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