Mental Snapshots
This is one of those mornings I want to remember, not for the significance of events, but for the normalcy of it all, for the love and humor and the way I feel. Some days life is passing by at a blurring pace, and I get worried I’m failing to set memories. So here I am taking a mental snapshot of motherhood and life.
First, my boys were in so much pain this morning. Not fun. Definitely amusing. Last night we went to the PTA skate night for their school, and after battling and beating down the flu for several days, we were happy to get out. They had an such an incredible time — especially Wookie, who was tearing up the track with a wheely cart — that they wore themselves ragged and were nearly unable to bend their legs today. Scooby’s knobby knees were red and purple, so I guess he needs to learn to fall on his bum instead. As they were moaning about not being able to get off the couch to get dressed for school, I said, “And now you know what it is like to wake up as an adult every single day.” I helped them stretch out on the floor. I teased them that their PE coaches skated as hard as they did and probably weren’t sore at all this morning. Still the boys asked when they could go skating again.
Another amusing conversation came from watching “Peg + Cat”. Peg exclaimed, “Here come the teenagers!” as if teenagers were amazing, magical creatures bearing excitement and joy. I turned to the boys.
You know what happens when sweet kids turn into teenagers?
No…
They get bad attitudes and think they are too cool for their parents.
What?!
That won’t happen to you will it?
No.
Never!
Maybe…
Wookie was more convinced that this would never happen to him, but Scooby, who is already dodging my arm on his shoulder when I visit his class, was not as convinced. I sent my two bedraggled boys off to school and drove home smiling. I love those guys. I love being their mom. I’m genuinely happy. I couldn’t stop smiling watching them skate last night. They are getting so tall and gangling but still have such a young sweetness. Wookie even stopped at the wall on one of his laps around to stick out his snotty, chapped lips for a kiss. How much longer do you think that will last? Probably not much longer, so I embrace them while they let me,
With them at school, I took a rake to a weedy garden bed to prepare it for lettuce seeds. Something caught the corner of my eye across the street, and I saw a hawk land in a tall tree. I fetched the binoculars and found the large bird up on a branch. It had huge, feathered legs and enormous claws and hopped around more like a beast than a backyard bird as it was devouring something in its clutches before it took flight screeching. I never stop being amazed at seeing wild animals in our downtown neighborhood — foxes, deer, snakes, hawks — and I’m so thankful for the time to be able to slow down and notice them.
With the time racing by, it feels more important than ever to be still enough to see. For a couple years I was in a constant state of anxiety about where I was headed… was I going places? Was I making the most of what God has given me? I’ve finally relented and started accepting that this is where I am. This is who I am. Last night, Scooby stood slightly drooped in the doorway of the bathroom too tired to brush his teeth, but unwilling to let them rot while he slept. Yes, I tell them their teeth will rot while they sleep if they don’t brush them. He couldn’t put one foot forward to head in either direction, a feeling I’m quite familiar with. I prodded, “Well you won’t get anywhere unless you walk” and started to shuffle him towards his bedroom, but he changed directions to clean his teeth. He’s a still a child that wants to do the right thing even if it’s hard. And I reflected, “But sometimes when you stand still, you’ll find you are exactly where you are supposed to be.”
