Oh, I’m in love…

I read this blog tonight. The writer is a local acquintance and I found her blog when she sent me an email telling me about her upcoming playgroup schedule. Man. I read and read and read. She is a fantastic writer (she writes for the newspaper). And I found myself facinated by someone I’ve never had any interest at all in. I mean, she’s super nice. But I never thought I’d spend my evening wrapping myself around her words and stories. And I feel a little bit inferior.

She’s probably closer to 40. Around here there are a lot of the wholesome hippy types, and she’s definitely one of those. So I know that we’re birds of a different feather. I mean, I don’t think I would be interested in listening to her stories about homeopathic remedies and butchering elk. And I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t be very interested in my stories about my new hair extensions and how those new acrylic nails I got put on popped off in 24 hours. But though she’s different (or I am), I think she seems like a really neat person.

She’s obviously a really awesome momma. Sometimes I envy moms like that. The one’s who don’t worry about house chores and play with their kids all day. The mommas who take their kids for walks on the Colorado trails, leaving their cell phones in their car, and walk miles and miles with their infants strapped to them and their preschoolers jutting on and off the trail. The mommas who talk calmely and lovingly to their children who listen contently. Their children are mild mannered because they are mild mannered mothers. And then there’s me… … …

I love and adore my babies, obviously. Hello!? How could I not? They are the most fantastic kids on Earth. But I’m not wholesome. I try… you know… I’ve got chickens, and I cook healthy, and I grow a garden, and I make soap, and I sew, and I bake bread… But I’m no Molly McButter. I’m not the Mom of the Year. I holler. I get frustrated. I spend too much time cleaning or doodling online or reading a book when I should be on the floor building forts or playing dolls or coloring. I would never just head for a Colorado trail by myself in the snow with my kids just to sit and eat a peanut butter sandwich at the top of a mountain. There are mountain lions and mean men and, well, it’s cold and I don’t like snow. Darnit. I like watching Spongebob and Dora and taking my kids to McDonalds for a hormone and grease smothered lump of cow flesh. I’m not very good at playing sometimes. I sit down to paint with the kids and my eyes start roaming… to the breakfast dishes, to the syrup all over the kids faces, to the mud by the entryway, to the mess around the woodstove. And I can’t help it… I want to clean and fold clothes and check my email and thaw some chicken for dinner.

But I love them soooo soooo soooo much.

I do want a break from them sometimes. I’m not playful enough. I don’t always nurture their little imaginations. Sometimes my patience is lacking. But I’m completely and totally head over heels. How do I forgive myself for not being the wholesome hippy momma? When I look back, will I have regrets? Did I give them enough memories? Should I have taken them for that adventure on a Colorado trail?

As I’m typing this, Caleb is lying in my lap, sound asleep. He is always in my arms and it frustrates everyone in the family just a little bit. But I held all of my babies constantly. I wouldn’t have done it different. It’s so bonding. It’s not Caleb’s fault he’s the 4th kid and mommy has soooo much to do. He just wants love. If I put him down, he pitches a fit. I love his attachment to me. Right now he’s sound asleep but his eyes are cracked just a sliver and he’s peeking at me through those slits. Occassionally he smiles or giggles in his sleep, especially when I smile at him as he sleeps. And I know he’s dreaming about me… he can’t even keep his eyes off of me, even in his sleep. It’s little things like that that move me and help me understand that, no, I’m not a wholesome hippy mommy. I’m just me. I love them and they have to know that. There’s no way I could feel this much fullness in my heart and them not feel it too. And part of being a good mommy is seeing my flaws and trying always to be better. It’s good to watch other moms and get a reality check. It’s good to feel inferior sometimes. It’s good to feel guilt. If you use it. Use it to be better. Even as adults we can’t be stagnant. We have to see our flaws and where we’re lacking. It would be selfish to quit growing and trying…

New Years Resolution: Leave my comfort zone and take my kids fishing this summer. Eat at least one peanut butter sandwich on the end of a trail over looking the Colorado skies. Color more pictures. Use that fancy Nikon camera more to take pictures of their syrupy faces and boogery noses. Tell more stores. Build more forts…

Let’s do this, kids. Let’s make 2010 the best year we’ve had together yet!

Posted by: stepherz | 01-27-2010 | 05:01 AM
Posted in: Momma