reality check

this mother’s day i admit to really struggling with parenting.

i have the whole feeding thing down. we eat well. we garden, we spend time outdoors, we have a damn good connection to the earth. we still have a ways to go but i’m confident we’re on the right path. but if i could get through one day without wanting to pull my hair out it would be a miracle.

several months ago gunter and i got into it about something. i don’t even recall the details of it, but in the end his words to me that day were crystal clear,

“i don’t even like you anyways.”

and for some reason i haven’t been able to let that go.

gunter is my stepson, he’s almost twelve, and something like this, though honest, is very typical of someone his age. but my faith in myself as a stepmom, even as a mom, started to crumble that day. and i haven’t yet recovered. i have held it against him, i have distanced myself, i have checked out, i have blamed, i’ve been less than i should be to him and to my family. and things with amelie and harper seem harder to manage than they should be.

almost a year ago, when we knew we had to close our restaurant but hadn’t yet told anyone, our lives were miserable. i cried every day and confided in only a handful of people about my pain. and now we are in a different world. we have time, we make plans, we have new jobs (still no money) but we have a life. so why can’t i find it in myself to stop losing my cool with my children?

i think that maybe i’m being hard on myself. people lose their cool, right? and having children that are almost twelve, ten, four, and two means covering a large expanse of milestones. right now in our house we have the sweetest and smartest sass-mouthed middle school boy who keeps tossing his hair to the side even though it’s not long enough to toss. we have a ten year old girl who’s the official pleaser middle child and wants nothing but love, peace, and to figure out what tampons are. we have an almost five year old girl who is really starting to express herself in several mediums (mostly thanks to her teacher at school) but who still adores me and just wants to be heard. and then there’s harper.. almost three. she seems to be the one who tries our patience the most but really is no different than gunter was at that age. she is a beast, stubborn, vocal, smart as a whip, and with a great sense of humor. but still two. and two is two no matter how you slice it. maybe three will be better?

having older children and younger children at the same time sometimes gives you the illusion that your done with that hover/intervene/manage stage when you really are not. not yet. so thanks to some consulting with fellow colleagues (benefit of working at a school) i now have some new ideas for how to help keep my hair attached to my head a bit longer.

and lest i sound like all is gloom and doom, i should mention, most importantly, what i am thankful for this mother’s day. so here’s a list, in no particular order:

rear view mirror glimpses of singing or sleeping children

the annoying but ridiculoulsy cute hair toss

glove conditioning before a softball game

watching them say the words to the Lord’s prayer in church

daring leaps, rolls, tumbles

playing shortstop

dirty, snotty faces, paint-covered clothes

bird identification

soccer games

questions

writing “H for Harper”

storytime

sleeping in late together

sitting on the kitchen counter

planting seeds

smoothies

dancing

watching them standing on the church pew holding an open bible and singing along with hymns

just to name a few. when i have so much. so the lesson here is, live it, experience it, know that i am not alone and that i have the love, support, and the wisdom of friends and family. but most of all,

do not miss the beauty.

a few nights ago we were at a playground with family after dinner. amelie had to go to the bathroom and i took her into a local rec center. the bathroom had several stalls but no one was there. she walked into the first stall , pulled down her pants and shimmied onto the toilet. i asked her if she needed some privacy.

“yes,” she said. “can you come in?”

for now i am still part of her intimate, private, trusting world and for that i am deeply thankful.

that is the beauty.