The weird desire to smell just inside the crevice of their neck, cheek-to-cheek.
*Inhale* their sweetness.
Feel their entire fist upon my finger . . .
But miss those days?
Count me out.
With four daughters, all I’ve heard is warnings of teenage days to come.
My oldest is only eleven and I’ve had to put my foot in my parental mouth more times than I care to count so I dare not assume I know better than my foremothers.
But, I admit. . .
I look forward to the future more than I look longingly backward to their baby days.
Perhaps it is because I had the opportunity to experience babyhood four separate times.
My friends with twins remind me that although they were awarded double the experience at the same time, they wished they’d had the opportunity over time.
Lord knows, I got that time- I was pregnant and/or nursing for nine years in a row.
Instead, I revel in witnessing my daughters grow into young women- their passions, insecurities and questions.
I walk alongside, offering assistance as needed and hopping in bed to cuddle when requested.
I have such faith that they will continue to shine
When I say it’s all gravy one minute and WWIII the next, I mean it.
That’s how fast things can change, in a house full of sisters.
Tonight, a battle erupted over who gets to watch a show with mommy.
Let’s be clear, people:
I watch a total of 2- that is T-W-O- shows a week.
They are Survivor and The Amazing Race.
That is 100% completely it. My total list.
My husband sits down nightly and watches PTI on ESPN, a show about North Carolina fishing, Bob Ross painting, and bluegrass music without issue.
As soon as I attempt to sit down, however, whether on the couch or toilet, I apparently have invited my audience to request things of me (I am, shockingly, sitting down, after all).
So, I’ve given up! I just don’t even bother trying to watch television because it’s too disappointing to try and claim that time.
I’d rather hide in my bed and read or stay up way too late to write.
Pre-children, I watched these two shows alone but since our second daughter, Harper, has always been our night-owl, I started watching them with her a few years ago and, in addition to me reading Harry Potter aloud to her, it’s become “our thing”.
It’s never really been an issue because my eldest, Aurora, has always been an early-to-bed, early-to-rise child but she’s growing and changing into a tween and tonight, she wanted to stay and watch.
Cue WWIII.
Harper wanted Aurora to leave but Aurora, not causing an issue, had every right to be there.
I found myself in the midst of a mommy battle and quickly realized, this was a turning point.
I could defend Harper, my second daughter whom I’ve always protected- perpetually considering her feeling inferior to her big sister. They are only twenty months apart and her big sister is an awesome human. It’s tough shoes to fill!
Or I could stand by my eldest, who can’t help that she came first or that I chose to have three more children.
Ultimately, I stood my ground and my husband backed me up.
I am a mother of FOUR. Not one.
My time is shared as equally as possible (not equal at the same time, equal over time!).
Harper’s argument was that Survivor was “our thing”.
I explained that before her, it was “mine”.
But I chose to share it with her.
And now, I choose to share it with her sister, too.
At one point, Aurora apologized (for even trying) and attempted to give up.
No.
We do not apologize for existing.
As the illegitimate child of a love affair, this hits particularly hard for me.
We do not apologize for existing.
She had every right to be there as her little sister, whose feelings have always been considered.
All’s well that ends well.
And that’s how things wrapped up tonight.
Harper was put in her place.
Desperate as she is to claim her spot, she learned that she is part of a family and no more important than each piece of the puzzle.
Aurora learned that I would defend her. When she snuck a note under Harper’s door stating, ‘I’m sorry”, I returned it, explaining that:
We do not apologize for existing.
I hugged Harper, as I tucked her in, and reminded her that she is loved.
I hugged Aurora, as I tucked her in, and reminded her the same.
Recently, I was told that I am “overwhelming” and “exhausting”.
And the thing is: it’s not untrue.
I am 100% both of those things.
I live life fast and furiously, never wanting to miss a moment or waste a day- including days with zero plans because those often offer the best unplanned fun.
And I document them!
Boy, do I document them.
Because I never want to forget.
But in my hard-life-living, I’ve also experienced personal casualties and wondered,
“What’s wrong with me?”
“Am I too much?”
“Am I not enough?”
The doubt creeps in and for a minute I think, “Yes, I should be smaller.”
Then, I remember a poem read to me by a speaker at a conference:
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness That most frightens us.
We ask ourselves Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God.
Your playing small Does not serve the world. There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking So that other people won’t feel insecure around you.
We are all meant to shine, As children do. We were born to make manifest The glory of God that is within us.
It’s not just in some of us; It’s in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine, We unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, Our presence automatically liberates others.
—Marianne Williamson
I *remember* hearing this poem for the first time and the fire that it ignited in me.
And as a mother of four daughters,
I’ll be damned if anyone tries to put that out.
Our girls will not accept mediocrity, if I have anything to do with it.
They will strive for their best and nothing less.
And you know why?
Because they are worth it!
Because we all are all worth it!
And because, as the poem says, we are all better when we let our light shine.
And it’s been 10 years (and 199 days but who’s counting?)
Since I’ve been home alone.
Let me repeat that.
It’s been 10 and-a-half years since I’ve been home alone.
I imagine that I will begin that first day crying and then laughing hysterically while eating ice cream in broad daylight watching inappropriate shows on Netflix.
And on the second day . . . .
On that second day I am throwing myself a celebratory brunch because you know what?
I’ve earned it.
And so have you.
Take time to cry and then upon realizing that they will be just fine,
I walked in and explained that I’d held on to this gift certificate since Christmas. That I was in the midst of a family trauma and that I was here to relax and let some of that go.
What I didn’t expect was to burst into tears 45 minutes through, as my massage therapist pulled the energy from my muscles and flicked it away. As she summoned my breath and thanked me for feeling safe enough to let it go in that room, with her, a stranger.
But there we were. 2 strangers united at 9 AM. She, not knowing the trauma and still, meeting me there. Helping me to release.
We hugged, afterwards. After all, after weeping, what else is one to do?
And then we carried on. Her next client. My day with my daughters.
New Leaf Parenting 