Confessions of a Late Mom

Oh Friends, it's so hard to write about this.  There is a part of me that wants to just skip over it and pretend it never happened.  A part of me that wishes to just walk on forward and talk about other parts of our weekend--but not this one.  In fact, today is the first day I can think about it without shedding tears. . . though I suspect writing about it will bring those back.  To not write about it, though, seems wrong.  To skip over it goes against everything I have wanted for this space--a space to tell our story. 

So, here it is. . .

Chanelle graduated from Preschool this weekend. 

It was a day that we had anticipated for weeks.  We talked about it, we counted down the days, she practiced for the ceremony with her classmates and while at home she diligently rehearsed her song in her sweet little voice.  Over and over again I heard the lyrics. . . Peace is the world smiling, peace is a gentle dove, peace is caring, peace is sharing, peace is filling the world with love. . .

I was so excited for her and I didn't hide it.  I took part in the countdown.  Words like, you're almost a graduate and I'm so excited to hear you sing your song and only ___ days or ___ hours until graduation, escaped my lips often.  She matched my excitement and anticipated her "moment" with equal enthusiasm. 

But If I'm being completely honest (and I am) as the day approached I would lay in bed at night and feel the welling up of tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat as I told Chad of my bitter-sweet feelings. . . I'm going to miss her next year.  I hate transitions like this.  It all feels like it's going so fast. . .

Wasn't it just yesterday we dropped her off for the first time and now she's moving on and up??  How did this happen?  Our girl. . . she's growing up.

I kept a brave face for our graduate, though.  I know she is ready and excited to be a Kindergartener and so we were sure to build it up. 

(This is where the story begins to go bad.)

Chad, Charlie, Chanelle, Meadow and I drove to the graduation location and arrived at 4:15. . . 15 minutes before the ceremony was to begin.  Immediately, Chad and I noticed the crowded parking lot that contained zero people walking toward the door.  We approached the door and when I peaked inside my heart sank. Parents were standing up from their seats and cameras were pointed in the directions of Chanelle's entire smiling preschool class--we had missed the entire program--which began a 4 p.m. 

Oh Friends, I can't describe the sinking feeling in my heart.  I did my best to fight the tears, but failed miserably.  I bent down to Chanelle's level and through my tears apologized over and over while quickly explaining that Mama had the wrong time and we had missed the program, before she was swept away to join her class for pictures. 

Through my tears I fumbled with my camera and attempted to get a shot of my girl who stood bravely fighting her own confused tears.  In my mind I heard her sweet voice practicing her song, and I saw myself building anticipation for this day and, quite honestly, I felt like the worst Mom in the world. 

I'm certain my girl was part confused and part devastated as this entire scene happened within seconds.  She's a brave one, though, and I could feel her swallowing down her lump and putting on a brave face for everyone.  (Far braver than my face.)

We were back outside within minutes and my apologies continued while she listened and let me hug and kiss her.  The disappointment, though, was all over her face as she sang her song for Chad's mom to hear. 

And then Meadow did something funny and she laughed. . .

And then she played a game of tag with Charlie and my FIL (while I stood back and cried) and she laughed some more. . .

And then we went out to dinner and she ate cake and she smiled and told me, I think we missed it because of the traffic, but at least we got to see some of it!

I had to explain to her that it was my fault and that I was so very sorry and her sweet voice she told us all, Poppy sent me flowers today and Gramps got me a cake.  Even though I didn't get to sing my song, this was the best Graduation. 

. . . and I realize that she is light years beyond me.

After dinner the five of us stopped for a bit just to enjoy the outdoors and breathe a bit.  I stood back and watched my girl running and laughing and playing and perfectly content in the moment and I couldn't imagine anything more beautiful. . .

While I stood back and issued myself numerous emotional lashings Chanelle did what she does so well. . . she enjoyed the moment. 

As I put her to bed that night I hugged her and apologized again and she assured me, It's okay!  And while she has moved on I am still recovering and fighting the lump that has taken a permanent residence in my throat.  I know Chanelle is okay and I know that eventually I will be okay, too.  For now this is what I know for sure. . .

. . . when I grow up, I hope I'm just like her. 

I Think I Met A Wise Woman. . .

Wednesday morning I had a long list of things I hoped to get done and so we were up and at 'em bright and early.  At about 8:30 a.m. I pulled my car into the parking lot of the grocery store, climbed out of the car and quickly unloaded Meadow from her car seat.  After I closed the car door, I put her down beside me and reached down for her to grasp my finger.  We began our leisurely walk (because leisurely is the only way toddlers walk) into the store.  After about eight steps Meadow began tugging her arm in an attempt to squirm out of my grasp, at which point I bent down and picked her up to speed up the process.

Once inside I reached for the first cart which seemed glued to its cart-friends and unwilling to budge.  After tugging at two more carts I finally found one that would stroll with me and placed Meadow snugly in the seat.  I made my way into the store and fought the carts dysfunctional wheel as I pushed Meadow up and down the produce section of the store.  She babbled away and I only half listened while trying to recall all the items I had written on the imaginary list in my head.

As I turned from the produce section and walked toward the frozen food section I noticed an older (and most likely much wiser) woman pushing a dysfunctional and defiant cart of her own.  She walked down the other side of the same aisle and out of the corner of my eye I noticed her watching Meadow and I.  Meadow, unaware of her audience, babbled on and on and on while our carts met up in a parallel position.  As the woman and I passed each other with our ridiculous shopping carts our eyes met and she smiled.  Her smile was a sweet smile.  A kind smile.  I smiled back and I felt her cart slow even more as her head turned briefly and her eyes trailed after us.  I'm not sure what she was thinking but in my spirit I felt it must be something like this. . . enjoy these years with that little one--they go so fast.

Of course I have no way of knowing if that was really what she was thinking, but the feeling has stayed with me.  In my mind I can still see her face and I realize--we really aren't that different.  I imagine that, to her, she was in my position just yesterday.  I imagine that just yesterday she had little ones at her feet and she wondered how she would ever survive it.  I imagine that, to her, just yesterday she was sleep deprived and longing for a break.  I imagine that, to her, just yesterday she felt like she had forever with her little ones and now she knows that 'forever' is so short. 

That tiny moment in the grocery aisle got me thinking.  It got me thinking about all the things I want to remember. . .

I want to remember the way it felt to have their dirty nailed hands grasped tightly around my fingers. . .

I want to remember the way he learned to read and the way he went from stuttering through books to speed reading through them.

I want to remember afternoon snacks at the kitchen table. . .

I want to remember neighborhood celebrations that came as soon as the echo of the ice cream tuck was heard from blocks away. . .

I want to remember intense rounds of 'rock-paper-sissors' on the front porch. . .

I want to remember the sight and smell of play-doh on the kitchen table. . .

. . . and chalk littering the driveway. . .

I want to remember the way Charlie and Chanelle always looked after their younger sister. . .

I want to remember the sounds of joyful voices screaming in our backyard. . .

Our turkey in in this photo. . .

I want to remember precious sister moments. . .

I want to remember evenings of togetherness. . .

I want to remember the way they adored being with Daddy. . .

I want to remember the way his hair fell in his eyes. . .

And how she was born a Mama. . .

And the way her eyes revealed her soul. . .

Oh, there is so much more, but I'll save those for another day. . .

As I stood in that store, a few aisles down from the woman with the wise eyes, I imagined myself a few years down the road.  I imagined myself walking down the aisle of a grocery store and passing by a woman who has a baby tucked into the front seat of the cart, one in the back and one beside her.  I imagined myself watching her hang on by a thread as she balances the cries and antics of little ones and the list in her hands.  I imagined myself walking up to her, smiling, and gently telling her, enjoy these years. . . trust me, they go fast. . . She won't want to hear it, I know, but I imagine that one day we all understand how fleeting these years really are. 

Have a Happy Weekend, Friends. 

I think You Will Like This. . .

My sister sent this to me last week and said, I think you will like this. 

I trust her not to send me fluff and checked it out immediately.  She was right. 

I liked it.  

I think you will like it to.  It's called, This is Water.

You won't regret this Nine Minutes. . . I promise. . .

For a better view, click here.

Also, I'm blogging a sweet engagement shoot over at SummerK today.  Check it out, here, if you so desire.

It Ain't Easy. . .

I don't typically use the word 'ain't', but it seemed the only appropriate word here.  I'm talking about Motherhood. 

Motherhood ain't easy.  Parenthood ain't easy.

It was so lovely today to see the numerous posts running through my Facebook feed and other social media sites addressing Mom's special day.  Pictures of flowers and handmade gifts for Mom.  Fancy meals out and afternoon naps enjoyed by many Moms who run and run all day long to serve the little ones who came from our wombs.  Sweet words and kind sentiments expressed by passionate Mama's and thankful Daddy's were the 'top stories' all day long. . . it was lovely.

Care to know what I just did?  (Graphic material ahead--may not be suitable for sensitive readers.)

The girls were in the bathtub playing after I had finished washing them.  I was in the living room cleaning up the mess we had neglected all day long and I hear Chanelle's voice ring out, Meadow's pooping!!!  I run into the bathroom to see a shivering Chanelle standing tub side and half covered by a towel and Meadow standing in a pool of water littered with bath toys, a few cups, and, well, a few floaters. 

This was following her spitting lunch on the floor after having placed it on her head, refusing to take 3/4 of her nap, insisting that she be held all day long and if we didn't she decided that was the perfect time to test the limits of her vocal chords, like I said. . . all day long.  By the time the day neared its end we skipped Chad's pre-planned Mother's Day meal of grilled veggies and opted to go out and have frozen yogurt for dinner instead.

Ah, life. 

I laughed at the situation as I was, um, clearing Meadow's deposits out of the bathtub.  (Okay, maybe it was after I cleaned it out.)  All I could think about is how unpretty it was and yet how real it is. 

This is Motherhood.  It's not easy.  It's not pretty.

Oh, but it's worth it.

I didn't have any big plans or expectations for Mother's Day. (Though, cleaning poop out of the tub was not on my 'I hope' list).  The only thing I really wanted was for all of us to be together.  And maybe 70 degree temperatures.  We got one, but not the other.

It was chilly, but sunny.

We have had a wild turkey make a daily appearance in our backyard.  (By the way, It really gobble-gobbles.)  After Meadow's 1/4 nap we suggested to the kids that we go on a "Wild Turkey Hunt". (read: wild goose chase).  A wild turkey hunt sounds far more exciting than a nature hike on a chilly day.  The kids were pumped.

On and on we went with Chanelle pushing us farther and farther certain that the turkey would be just over there.  We took in the scenery while Charlie and Chanelle bantered back and forth.  Truly, for me this made the perfect Mother's Day.  Nothing special but us, together, making simple little memories to call our own.

Chanelle sang "over the river and through the woods. . . "

While Chad blasted Justin Timberlake through his phone to drown out the sound of Meadow's very insistent pleas that she be carried. . .

(She's very convincing. . . )

There really isn't a "perfect" moment when you have kids, though.  (Okay, at least for us.)  For about the last half mile or so the kids began to tell us whine that they can't walk anymore or can you pleeeease carry me or I'm so hungry or I'm so tired.  Until, that is, they saw something that interested them. . .

. . . then they were full-go again.

Yep, parenthood.  It's not always pretty, but it is so very worth it.  You know why?  Becasue tonight when I laid in bed with the kids before saying our final good-nights I asked them about the best part of their day.  You know what they said? 

They said it was the Turkey Hunt.  And really?  That makes it all worth it.  When I wake up in the morning the bathtub-poop will be long forgotten, but the memories we made walking on a chilly May afternoon will be carried with us for years to come.

. . . and that is worth it all.

Enjoy your Monday, Friends.