You've been sleeping awfully hard lately, dosing off before your younger sister, Mary, in the bed below you has ceased with the, "Mom! I'm thirsty! and I forgot how to close my eyes!" routine she been practicing with an annoying degree of diligence. You're exhausted, I think, from being so big and yet so little simultaneously.
I am always taken aback by your random bouts of shyness - when you bite your lower lip, stare down at your toes, cling to my waist. No baby talk, I whisper, discreetly in your ear, until eventually you pull away from me, straighten your posture.
I'm so busy with the boys, the rough and tumble, distracted boys and tiny Mary, still quick and unpredictable. I count on you to be your old dependable self, eager to please, easy to manage and I thus I come down too hard when you compromise that reliability by wandering instead into episodes of poutiness or silliness or even rarer, straight-up defiance. I forget sometimes to take into account that you're imperfect, like I am imperfect and just as prone to lose myself, my patience, my confidence, in the moment.
This morning I got you dressed for a special day downtown with daddy. You picked out your new red shirt and sweater, your gold shoes. We had to hurry because the train was leaving in thirty minutes. We had to hurry so I pulled your hair when I brushed it, and then you barked at me. Don't speak to me like that, I growled, imitating exactly the tone I had just forbidden. We humphed at each other until your coat was finally on and I came to my senses. Have a good time, sweetheart, I offered warmly, and you instantly brightened.
It is my job to be the mom - calm, stable, consistent. You, Priscilla, are but a child awakening to a world not always fair or kind or safe. I can't guarantee much, but I promise you this - I will never stop trying, stop forgiving, stop apologizing. I know you need me, the pray without ceasing me …
Here I am, here I am.
10 comments:
Molly, you did it again: captured exactly my feelings for my big/little children. I am constantly reminding myself (usually on my knees right after I've blown it again) that it is my job to be the mature one that they look to for an example of how to live: how to deal with stress gracefully, how to repay evil with good. They grow so quickly... already slipping through my fingers. I want more than anything in the world to "do it right" as far as raising my kids are concerned. When we were chrismated 15 months ago, I chose St Macrina the elder as my patron. The grandmother of St Basil the great, St Gregory of Nyssa, St Macrina the younger, and St Peter of Sebaste. We don't know much about her actual life, but we certainly see her fingerprints on the Kingdom of God. That is exactly my hope and prayer for my own life: I don't mind too much living in obscurity, but please, Lord, allow me to raise saints! May God bless us all who have taken on this most holy of vocations!
Oh Molly, I needed this reminder today! Thank you so much! What a sweet and honest post.
Enjoyed your post. I often think about what I expect from my children and how hard it is for even ME to live up to those expectations. They are just growing and learning and need to much love and understanding.
Ingrid
Thank you! As the ladies prior to me have said, I needed this, and it said exactly what I've been thinking. I can't help thinking how much your children will treasure this record you are keeping. How amazing would it be when we become a mom for the first time to be able to read about our mother's thoughts, fears, and failed attempts. It makes me want to do something like that for my daughter.
Thank you for putting your heart on these lines and beautifully illustrating your live with these pictures. I am reminded of a great family we are part of suffering and learning and celebrating together. As I sent my big five year old daughter with dad this morning, I am reminded why I love her by my side. Thank you for shinning the light on those tense and immature moments that I so regret.
Ditto on what Jeanette said. Thank you!
Molly,
How comforting it is to know that I'm not the only one who has days/moment like that with her children. More often than I would like, I lose my patience with my oldest son. Then, I remind myself, he's only 3... still just a baby in many ways. Sometimes I grow weary of the cycle of apologizing to him and then acting the same way all over again. That which I long to do, I do not do; that which I do not wish to do, I do. I find solace in the words of a monk on Mt. Athos who said, when asking what they do all day,"We fall down, we get up."
Thanks for being so open with your struggles, Molly. They are always a beacon of hope for me.
Stephanie
How do you always make me cry? I'm going through difficult phases with all three kids right now and I get so frustrated with myself sometimes. I'm an oldest child myself and I feel for my oldest child. It's a hard road to walk sometimes.
Beautiful song, by the way. I might have to go to ye olde itunes and get this one.
"I can't guarantee much, but I promise you this - I will never stop trying, stop forgiving, stop apologizing. I know you need me, the pray without ceasing me"
Ah...Molly! How do you know? :D Thank you friend, thank you!
This is one of your many beautiful posts where we, your readers, see right into your soul. You are a willing vessel- willing to share your beautiful imperfectness while perfectly encouraging us along the way.
Thank you, thank you, thank you for your kindness and honesty and understanding. In each of our homes, in each of our lives, we are striving for a common goal. I am relishing this evening in the feeling that I am a part of something much bigger and brighter than the sum of my mistakes and frustrations. I am praying for each of you. Please pray for me.
Post a Comment