My Heart: Walking Around Outside My Body

2.29.16

“Making the decision to have a child — it is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.”
― Elizabeth Stone

I will never forget the first time that I left my oldest son for an hour. He was a couple of months old, and I handed him to sweet Miss Donna in our church’s nursery. I gave her detailed, written instructions for every possible scenario that she might encounter within the next 60 minutes. As I walked upstairs with my husband to attend the service, I understood Elizabeth Stone’s quote for the first time. Once you have a child, your heart never leaves his side. Your heart feels his joy more strongly, his pain more deeply. . .both his pride and shame are multiplied.

During the next hour I struggled to focus, wondering if he was hungry or needed to be changed…did I bring two pacifiers? What if one dropped on the floor? When I picked him up, he was sleeping soundly in Miss Donna’s arms as she gently rocked him. Over the next three and a half years, Miss Donna became a regular part of our weekly routine and a person that our family came to adore. After 11 years, this incredibly kind, big-hearted woman has not missed a single birthday, Christmas or Valentine’s Day—my kids continue to be delighted when they find her cards from North Carolina in our mailbox. I am so thankful that she came into our lives when I truly needed a break and a person I could trust. She has continued to spread sunshine and to remind my kids just how special they are through her loving eyes.

As my kids have grown up, I have felt my heart separate from me time and time again. The odd thing is that it never gets easier. . .never becomes routine. I remember when the nurse gave my son his first set of vaccinations, plunging needles into his chubby little thighs, his cherubic face went from innocently smiling into my eyes to a pained, twisted, angry shade of red that matched his blood-curdling scream. I wished I could change places with him. As a toddler, I remember when a little cute little girl with golden curls bit him on the cheek because she wanted his toy, during “Book Babies” at the library. I wished it was me with the teeth marks on my own face. As he’s gotten older he’s no longer at risk of being physically bitten by another toddler, but tweens’ words can cut with much more force…It breaks my heart.  I wish I could protect him from cruelty.

Motherhood has been full of surprises, but my greatest shock has been the incredible, unconditional love that brings great joy and greater pain. When I kiss my youngest goodnight, I always tell him that I love him and he always responds by saying that he loves me more — such a sweet sentiment, but so NOT possible.

Happy for Him, Sad for Me

2.12.16

I dropped my youngest child, fondly referred to as my caboose, off for kindergarten round-up this morning.  He looked so big and grown-up as he took the hand of his middle school ambassador and walked down the hall away from me, without looking back.  All morning I’d had butterflies, feeling nervous for him and a little excited too.  But, I was not prepared for the intense sadness. . .the lump in my stomach as I pulled away from the school without him.

Today, I only left him for a brief hour, but it represents the end of a beautiful chapter in my life. Being four and a half years younger than my middle daughter, we’ve had five years together while his older siblings have been in full-day school.  He’s been my little sidekick, a great source of happiness.

I realize now that I’ve parented my third child with a different perspective.  With my first child, I thought that whatever phase I was currently experiencing (teething, potty training, full-body tantrums, whining, bed wetting, etc.) would never end.  I sincerely believed that each one would go on forever; I could not see the light at the end of the tunnel. With my third, I had the experience to know that he would eventually outgrow each one. And that allowed me to minimize the importance of the negatives and to enjoy the positives in a way that I had not allowed myself with my first two, who are only 19 months apart.

With my third, I know how quickly the time at home with me will pass.  I cherish holding his little hand in mine as we run errands and have made it a point to play with him everyday.   Because I know that one day, he’ll prefer his friends to his mom.  I cherish his open acts of affection, sitting in my lap at church and kissing me on the cheek repeatedly.  Because I know that one day, he’ll be too big and too self-conscious to do that anymore.

My job as a mom is to raise my kids so that one day they will be able to soar from my nest.  Like so many things involved with great parenting, it is totally counterintuitive.  I love having my little chicks at home.  My happiest moments are when my sweet family of five is together, enjoying each other.

I also recognize that my deep sense of sadness is coming from a place of selfishness.  I really am only sad for me.  I know that kindergarten will be an incredible year for my son.  He will grow and learn at an unprecedented rate. So, I must choose to focus on the amazing year ahead for him:  his great teacher, new friends and all of the skills that will provide the foundation for a lifetime of learning. . .

Fight with Love

1.9.16

Despite my outwardly demure nature, I would describe myself as a fighter.  Put in a position of fight or flight, I choose fight.

I will illustrate this point with a quick, highly entertaining story:  When I was in my early 20s, I woke up at the crack of dawn every morning to pound the treadmill in my apartment’s fitness center.  Most mornings, I ran alone.  On one of these mornings a giant naked man appeared outside the entrance of the building, blocking the windowed door.  Without hesitating, I went into fight mode and grabbed my mace. Throwing open the door, I began repeatedly yelling: “What are you doing?!?”  Luckily, he retreated and ran away.  I followed him up the flight of stairs, macing his naked buttocks.  When we reached the main parking lot, I paused and asked myself: “What am I doing?”  Why was the instinct of a petite, 5 foot 4 inch woman to chase a man so much bigger and stronger?

Lately, I’ve been butting heads with one of the people that I love the most in this world.  I recognized that our boxing match would never end unless one of us stopped swinging.  Two incredibly strong-willed and stubborn individuals, we’d keep the “jab, jab, quick, quick” going for eternity.  Because flight was not an option, I considered a third alternative:  Love.

I realized that we really are on the same team, wanting the same happiness and peace.  The only thing standing between our shared goals and desires was ourselves.

I’ve heard that insanity is defined as doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.  Applied to this situation, continuing to meet fight with fight would be insane.  So, I changed tactics and met anger with empathy and a hug.  Astonishingly, our swings turned into an embrace.  And, I realized that fighting with love is the answer.  I hope to meet future conflicts with love and compassion.  Although it is contrary to my natural instincts, it is definitely worth the effort.  Plus, loving is so much more fun than fighting. 

 

Today I Choose Joy

1.19.16

I confess that I am more of a “glass half empty” than “glass half full” type of gal.  I really wish that I wasn’t that way.  To compensate, I tend to fill my life with happy, positive friends who nudge (and sometimes force) me to shift my perspective.

When I was in college, my best friend and roommate always woke up happy.  She’d bounce out of bed and sing “Good Morning, Sunshine!” to me.  I have to admit on certain mornings I found it quite annoying.  But, by choosing to always wake up on the right side of bed, she set the tone for her day and mine.  And, she taught me something that I’d never considered:  Your alarm clock does not need to be your enemy!  I now have my own good morning songs that I sing to my kiddos when I drag them out of bed at 6:45 a.m.  On this particular morning, my joyful wake-up call was greeted by my five-year-old’s fist, my nine-year-old’s pillow (heaved in my direction) and my eleven-year-old’s exasperated sigh (and maybe an eye-roll, too).

One of my dearest friends from North Carolina sent me this beautiful “I Choose Joy” piece of art for my birthday this year.  I hung it above the light switch that I turn on when I wake up each morning.  It makes me happy because it reminds me of my wise friend and that happiness is a choice.

This morning, Omaha experienced another Winter Weather Advisory. As I was white-knuckling my steering wheel and praying for a safe trip to school, I heard someone on the radio comment that we were experiencing a beautiful snowfall.  I am embarrassed to admit that I hadn’t noticed – I was so focused on bundling up my kids and navigating the treacherous roads that I hadn’t paused to appreciate what was right in front of me.  He was right.  It was beautiful.

Cousins: An Unintentional Gift

1.9.16

Nearly a decade ago, my husband and I were trying to decide where we wanted to raise our family.  We were living in Winston-Salem, North Carolina at the time . . . and we loved it.  Having spent my entire life in the Midwest, I could not believe that I lived in a place where I could drive an hour to the Blue Ridge Mountains or three hours to the Coast.  We loved the mild winters and felt connected to the community after living there for five years.

However, when the job offer from Omaha arrived, my husband and I felt pulled back to our Midwestern roots.  We wanted our kids to know our families — not to just see them once or twice a year.  At the time, we were thinking mainly about our parents, our kids’ grandparents.  I only have one younger sister; she was also living in Omaha with her husband and expecting their first son. I remember thinking that it’d be fun for us to hang out together with our kids. But, the biggest bonus wasn’t even on my radar: cousins.

This past week, I took my youngest son and his four-year-old cousin (AKA best friend) to the Children’s Museum.  As I watched them laugh, run and hug each other spontaneously, it occurred to me that cousins offer all of the best things about family:  love, loyalty, unconditional acceptance, friendship and fun with none of the issues that can darken sibling relationships:  fighting, jealousy, competitiveness or just button-pushing in general.

This pure, genuine love extends to our cousins who live outside Omaha, too.  While I love our adult relatives, it is the kids who turn every family event into a full-blown party.  The anticipation of a road trip to Des Moines carries the same level of excitement as a trip to Disney World!  If you’ve grown up with family nearby, this probably seems incredibly obvious.  But for me, I am grateful for this unintentional gift to my kids; it is one of our family’s greatest blessings.