The process of motherhood is exactly that – a process.
Sure, one pops a baby out of one’s nethers and…. voila! A mommy is born! Well, that’s one way, at least…
BUT.
Process.
My poor son. My first born. He has grown with me as much as I have grown with him. My guinea pig.
I can relate to his role as “guinea pig”, for I am the oldest sibling too. It’s not easy. Especially when one has our personality type – a judger… a heightened awareness of what is fair and what is not… sensitive, particular and passionate.
As my children have grown out of diapers and can now butter their own bagels… I have struggled. I miss the babies. But I so much do not miss the babies.
I have caught me worrying – now that my kids are not babies and toddlers… will I have anything to feel all motherly/gushy/coo-ey about? Not to mention blow-outs and baby faces can make for some good blog content! And I miss those baby snuggles. Baby cheeks. Milk breath… Should the huz have made that visit to Dr. Snip? I am not kidding, the doctor’s name was Dr. Snip.
But I tell me this – Have No Fear.
Enter: my son.
We have had the most wonderful, yet the most complex of relationships. When I think of how I have blown it – as I have misunderstood his personality, over-reacted, reacted to his behavior out of pleasing/fearing others… I stand in awe of my boy.
I stand in awe of his heart. His mind. His conviction. His awesome sense of humor. His heart of forgiveness… but maybe not forget-ness.
My worries about my kids getting older is not that I will not have stories to tell. I think I am just afraid of losing my role in their life as “Mom”. I think I worry that as they become adults themselves my heart-right to adore them beyond all reason will get buried under the years.
I am learning this is not true. I am as delighted by the tween and pre-teen personality as I was the baby and toddler. And am just as exhausted. I can’t coo at them anymore. Well, I can… it’s just the ticket to cracking a smile on an 11 year-old grumpy pants. We both know it is absolutely ridiculous.
Several mornings back, my son came into my room. And woke me up. Some things never change…
He asked, “Can we adopt a baby?”
I asked why. His answer, “Because I feel really sad for kids that don’t have families.”
We talked for awhile about adoption and paperwork and friends who have adopted and how old he’d like a new sibling to be, and what gender… and money.
To which he shared, “Well. Can we get an xBox first?” and added, “I’d like a baby, but I think I’d really like a brother… my age.”
His wheels are turning. As are mine. I think about adoption. Often-ish. I told him, “Honey. You never know. I definitely think about it too. I’d say maybe you should start talking to God about this.”
I don’t tell him to go to God lightly or as a snarky flip of my tongue… I know mountains can move. Who knows what the years hold, and who knows if that is the path for the family he will one day have. I would not be surprised one bit.
He has the most amazing heart.
My soft-hearted boy also has a wicked-awesome sense of humor. The morning after I returned from the BlissDom conference he walked into my room… wrapped warmly in my bathrobe and “coffee” in hand.
“Sllllllrrrrrrrp. Sllllllllrrrrrrpppp.”
My eyes cracked/twitched open. (I just realized, that boy is ALWAYS waking me up! He has always been an early riser. Stinker.) I saw he had my robe on. I was all, “Morning! And Dude. Why you wearin’ mah robe, yo?”
“Ssssssllllllrrrrrrp. I let myself go.”
Where does he come up with this stuff?!
I’ll end with this — If we can make it through the teen years… oh my gosh… that boy. I find myself daydreaming of the day he is, say… 25. I imagine us at the kitchen table. Laughing. Talking. Laughing. I am convinced he is becoming the most fun and the most wonderful young man ever.
Now. If he would just be nice to his sister.
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