Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Writing the Unexplainable

It's not possible to document how much you love your kids. You can try. You can write about how happy you were when you found out you were pregnant, how exciting it was to know you were having a boy/girl, how your heart suddenly felt so full that first time you held that new little person, how the first time they smiled totally made everything worth it. You can mention how the first year goes by in a flash, one day you bring home a newborn, the next day they can roll over and smile and they're feeding themselves and crawling and standing and walking and shoving birthday cake into their chubby little face.

These things all happen in a blur and each day your heart grows. You can kiss their chubby baby fingers and the next day they're holding a pencil and writing their own name or blowing bubbles without your help or painting you a picture that you want to keep forever.

I hate how quickly my kids are growing up. I hate that Alana leaves me everyday to go to kindergarten without even looking back. I hate that every second that she's away I feel like something is missing. I also hate that one day I won't see her all the time. She will live somewhere else and I can't watch her sleep and make her cookies and tie her shoes. I hate that one day Ava will do all of her whining someplace else. She will probably cry when she goes to school, she gets that from me. But she'll get over it and make friends and need me less. I hate that my baby is already 11 weeks old. I hate that he will be one before I know it and someday when he goes to kindergarten I'll probably have to get a job and won't be the one who picks him up from school everyday.

Presumably he's my last baby and I want to be okay with that. I'm trying to be okay with that. But it still makes me sad. I could have 5 more kids and still never be done with pregnancy, done with newborns. I don't think I could ever get enough of holding a sweet new little person on my chest and not care about anything happening around me. When I sat in the bathroom at my work holding a positive pregnancy test I had no idea what I was in for. Who knew? That little nugget of excitement was nothing compared to how much my love for each of my kids grows everyday. It grows almost as fast as they do.

At the end of everyday I look at my sleeping peaceful children and almost forget anything bratty they did that day. I don't always feel like Mom of the Year after they've been super bratty, because sometimes I just want to lock myself in the bathroom and eat cookies. I want to be more patient, but there aren't enough cookies in the world when you spend 15 minutes playing playground chicken with 2 kids. Here's how that game goes: You say you're leaving in 5 minutes. They ignore you. You say you're leaving in 1 minute. They ignore you. You say you're leaving immediately. Bye, see you later. I'm going. Totally leaving now. (This is when you push the stroller towards the school gate because its like 3:30 and you wanna go home and its hot outside and maybe they'll believe you when you say you're leaving). You walk 10 feet. Stop. Turn around and look back. They haven't budged. You fight the urge to drag them off of the monkey bars. You walk a few more feet. They don't move. Clearly they're better at this game then you. They could do this all day. Eventually you walk far enough that one starts to yell and runs towards you and the other one gets thirsty so she just comes along cause you know, she's thirsty.

When I used to try to picture myself as a mom I couldn't do it. I didn't think I'd ever have kids, much less have them on purpose. But now I can't remember who I was before I was Mommy. I don't want to remember. I want to remember my kids when they were babies, their first steps, their first words, their first day of kindergarten. I'm okay with forgetting the sleepless nights, being thrown up on, and the words to every song on Dora.

All I can do is try to explain to them what they mean to me. Try to show them how much I care. I can tell them how special they are everyday, but I'm still the only one who is ever going to know just how perfect I think they are.


Heather said...

Love this Jennifer. You explained the unexplainable perfectly.

Jennifer said...

Thanks Heather! I was actually inspired by your blog about Rhett being 11 months when you mentioned how its hard to explain your love for him. So thanks for the idea!


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