Mothers Day

This Mothers Day started at 6:30 a.m. with a little lady looking for some snuggles and cartoons. Being that we were at our friends' house in Chicago we padded quietly downstairs for some early cartoons and snuggles. Once we were cuddled up on the couch Addie turned to me and said Mama is today Sunday? When I told her it was, she gave me a huge hug and said Oh good! Happy Mothers Day Mom, I love you!

We had a delicious breakfast with our friends, lingered in Chicago for a bit longer and then hit the road to try get home at a decent hour. Both Andy and Addie were sleeping by the time we hit Indiana and I got to enjoy a car free of questions while listening to the Cubs game on the radio. The few hours of listening to what I wanted to without answering dozens of questions was gift in itself.

We made it back to Cincinnati in time to stop by Gramma Patty's for a little picnic, wiffle ball (Addie hit the ball all by herself!) and chocolate covered treats. By the time we made it back to our house it was getting close to bed time...but Addie was excited to give me the gifts that she had made.

I got pampered with an hour long massage (thanks for helping her pick that out Andy!) and several preschool creations. Her hand print in pink paint to remind how little she is. A butterfly beautifully decorated with scraps of tissue paper and a poem about mothers. A handmade picture frame with a picture of my little cutie. And my favorite, a sheet called Meet my Mom which made me laugh and kind of made my day:

Meet My Mom

By Addie

What is your Mom's name? Jessica

How old is she? 29 or 26 (um, hells yes, thanks sweetie!)

What color is her hair? Brown

How much does she weigh? 50 lbs (sure that sounds about right - give or take a few)

What does your mom do around the house? She mops and sweeps and cleans (Hysterical, since the two chores I do the least is mopping and sweeping)

What is her favorite drink? Iced Tea (thank you, sweet angel, for not saying wine)

What does your mom cook? Yummy dinner, Yummy breakfast, Yummy lunch (errr, no your dad does most of that, but I'll take the credit)

What is your Mom's favorite TV show? The News (don't I sound informed?)

Where does she like to go? Target (um, yep. No argument there)

How do you know she loves you? She lets me make crafts (that is a sign of love because crafts drive me batty!

Muddasday

When I was pregnant my Aunt Paula sent me a slew of books on parenting - particularly on being the parent to a girl. One book was Growing a Girl.

I have admittedly not yet read it (don't judge me, I keep it in my 'to-read' pile next to the bed. Right next to the Percy Jackson series that I am unabashedly reading).

The title, however, sticks in my head.

Growing a Girl.

That's what I do. Every day. I don't really accrue any time off. I haven't gotten a raise, or annual review, in almost three years.

But I get kisses.

And I'm told twenty-seven times a day Mama, I love you, too.

I put band aids on scraped knees and pin hair out of beautiful eyes.

I read the same books over and over, and go to story time, even when I don't want to.

I am a lap. I am hugging arms. I am an example and disciplinarian.

At times I am exhausted and overwhelmed and frustrated. Other times I am overjoyed and amused and hopeful.

Mostly I am tired.

Tired but content.

And today, I was told over and over Happy Muddasday, Mommy.

Mommy, I get you flowers. Yellow and purple and white. I help paint the kitchen. I bring you a flower pot Mommy.

Happy Muddasday Mom. I love you too.

It's not easy work, Growing a Girl, but it's the best damn job I've ever had.

Shouldn't I have it figured out by now?

Last week my mom was in town. It was my chance to sleep in, to avoid poopy diapers, to drink more wine than I should, since I knew my mommy would take care of me and that tiny little person I am responsible for.

But I didn't sleep in.

I still changed diapers.

I did drink wine - but not that much.



I blew the perfect opportunity to recharge.
It's not that I didn't want to sleep in. It's not that I love wiping poopy butts. It's just that I apparently do not know how to take my mom hat off. I think it may be stapled to my scalp.



Is it just my issue, or do Mom's ever really take a day off?

It's not that I can't, it's that I don't know how.

Even when I have left town with Addie being cared for by Daddy or Grandma or Papa or Gramma or GG, I still find myself checking in a bit more than frequently.
A night out while she's being baby sat? I call to make sure everything is okay.
A night in? I still take a glimpse in her room before bed to reassure myself that she is breathing.

It seems an inability to not "mother" is hardwired in me.
Even when I think that I am not thinking of her, I am.
Wondering and hoping and worrying and thinking about her is like breathing to me ~ it's part of my daily routine.
It is totally unconscious, but completely necessary.

There are days when I find myself terrified by the gravity of being someone's mother.
It is my job to teach her to be a good and kind person.
It is my job to fill her confidence and curiosity and courage.
It is my job to make sure she knows how to put on her shoes, how to use a fork, how to walk down stairs and how to play nice.
It is my job to make sure she pays attention to the world and learn the lessons it is teaching.

How in god's name will I get this all done?

How will I teach her all of that and how to do a cartwheel?
Or throw a ball?
Or ride a bike?
Will I have time to teach her how to braid hair?
Or hold her breath under water?
Or how to whistle?

In all this teaching will I remember to let her play?
And makes mistakes?
And fall down and get hurt?
Will I be patient enough to not yell at her when I trip over her blocks for the fourteenth time in one day?
Will I be able to give her the freedom to mess up and disappoint me?
Will I be able to step back and watch her make a bad decision?

Ahhh, will I? Will I? Will I? Can I? Can I? Can I?

And then it occurred to me...my Mom let me navigate the world.
She held my hand tightly when I needed it, and she she gently pushed me forward when I needed it.
Because of her I know how to make a bed, read a recipe, problem solve, act silly, be kind, muster up some patience.
She put thousands of band aids on all my scrapes.
She survived dozens of emergency room visits due to my lack of coordination.
She let me climb higher than I should have in the trees, all the while hold her breath.

I survived it all. And so did she.

Addison will survive it all. And so will I.

Maybe I should not get so mired down in the checklist of things I have to teach her.
Maybe I should marvel at the fact that she can run. And jump. And climb the ladder to her playset.
Maybe I should be amazed that she knows how to share, and self-soothe, and ask for what she wants.
Maybe I should enjoy that fact that she likes to snuggle, and that she thinks books are cool, and is convinced that all animals want to be her best friend.

Instead of letting my "hardwiring" take over, I think I'll attempt to sit back and breathe and watch the wonder of this motherhood thing unfold.
Lord knows there are thousands of lessons coming my way...and I won't always be the teacher.

On occasion it will be my purple-loving, cat-kissing, puddle-jumping, mustard-obsessed, silly, goofy, loving little girl.


So Happy Mother's Day to me...to my Mom...to all the Mom's who have and are surviving the gravity of Motherhood...particularly to those of us who have taken a breath, remembered to laugh, and know that we have the most demanding, most exhausting, most incredible, most rewarding job in the world.

Mother's Day

One year, not so awfully long ago, my brother, Jeafen, and I both forgot Mother's Day. We didn't send any gifts. No cards were mailed. There might have been a 9 p.m. phone call, but in all honesty I don't think there was. Mother's Day came and went, and we never acknowledged it.

Needless to say we had one very hurt, very upset, very angry mother...it was probably best that we both lived out of state, because I am pretty sure that if Mom could have gotten her hands on us we would not have lived to tell it.

I can promise you this, however, after that royal screw up neither of us have ever missed Mother's Day again. We call and remind each other. It's highlighted in my calendar. It is the second Sunday of May. Packages and cards are sent out by the Tuesday before. There are sticky notes in my house and an alarm on my phone to make sure that my memory does not fail me.

I don't think I understood the emotional importance of Mother's Day until Addison entered my life. She changed who I am. She redefined my priorities. She made my world a better and a scarier place.

Ninety-nine percent of my waking hours are consumed with Addison ~ changing diapers, reading, playing, having bottles, introducing new food, learning how to crawl, stand and move around. We go for walks. We stop and smell flowers. We touch tree bark and pick grass. We play at parks. She is learning what NO means. She recognizes her name. She can clap. She giggles.
Everyday she is growing, and learning, and amazing me more.
And, because of her, I now don't only get to honor my mom, and all the other amazing women who have influenced my life on Mother's Day, but I get to join their club.

I wouldn't dare say their ranks, because they have truly earned their stripes. As someday so will I.

I know one day I, too, will survive the first day of kindergarten, the first sleep over, the first broken bone, the first trip to the emergency room.
I will survive middle school, puberty, first dates and being told "I hate you!".
I will survive her driving a car, swearing, being hurt by a friend and having her heart broken.
I will survive when she goes away to college, even though I tell everyone I know that she'll never "go that far away" from me.

I will survive one day when she falls in love, gets married and starts a family of her own. I will survive when my opinion isn't always sought out or when she disagrees with what I have to say.

I will survive when, one May, she forgets Mother's Day...but she better live far away, or she won't live to tell about it.

Until I cross all those bridges, I am going to remember to savor the little things. I am going to put down the crossword puzzle and play on the floor. I am going to get off the computer and help her explore her world. I am going to remember that I will never have the pure innocent trust, love and wonder that I have with her now.
I will ask her to stop growing so damn fast.

I am going to remember that I am not doing this alone. I have a kind, generous and amazing husband. I have a strong, selfless and loving mother. I have a supportive and giving stepmother. I have a mother-in-law is who patient and silly. I have aunts and friends and a family that are compassionate and wonderful.

I have Addison Evelyn.

So Happy Mother's to all the wonderful mothers, caretakers, mentors and amazing women who love, nurture and raise children everyday.
Happy Mother's Day to the Grandmothers and Great Grandmothers who get to watch the magic unfold, but don't have to wake up for the 6 a.m. bottles.


And Happy Mother's Day to me....I am so lucky to be a part of this club.

Thank you, Addison, for sponsoring my membership.