For Anne...

My oldest daughter, Anne, doesn't want to be a mother. This makes me sad. Oh, I know it's likely she will change her mind; she's twelve after all. But still, the fact that she sees nothing appealing in the path I have chosen feels like a failure on my part. Especially as her reason for this declaration is that my life would be much less stressful without so many children making demands of me. Apparently I have done a fine job of displaying the frustrations of motherhood but a dismal one at representing the benefits.

In some ways I can understand this. It's easy to see how the cons of having children, especially multiple children, can seem to outweigh the pros. I never have enough time or patience or money. I spend the nearly all of each day cleaning, refereeing, cooking, or chauffeuring. And really could there be a less glamorous life? I consider my self quite dolled-up if I put on makeup and blow dry my hair before leaving the house. Adult conversation is a commodity. And, sadly, it just simply is true that I am frequently overwhelmed and short tempered.

So, from the outside looking in, I can see why it would seem that I don't offer much to recommend this path I have chosen. But from Anne, who lives inside these walls, I find it heartbreaking. Heartbreaking that somehow I have failed to display the one, overwhelming, item on the other side of the scale. The thing that trumps the lack of sleep, and glamor, and privacy. The reason I signed up again and again to do this "mommy thing."

The joy.

Oh, Anne. I have failed you if you can't see it. That each and every day contains moments of joy that far outweigh anything that I ever experienced before becoming a mother. Joy that, for me, I thinkwould have been impossible to experience until I learned to love someone more greatly than myself. You and I have entered into a bit of a prickly phase in our relationship lately and I know that you know my days are not full of maternal rapture. But what I think you have missed is that in the spaces in between are moments, sometimes even just seconds, that take my breath away:

Boo and Pepper in their raincoats splashing, barefoot, in their rain. You, reading to Boo the same books I read to you. The light in The Little's eyes when you enter a room. Brando scoring a goal in a basketball game. Sitting next to you on the side of the tub while we have a lesson on how to shave your legs. The smell of Pepper's hair in the morning. The sound of you singing in the shower. The songs and adventures you create for your younger siblings. Brando wrestling with them at night. The passion you have for sharing Jesus with your friends. The voices of you and Brando talking together at night when you think we aren't listening. Sometimes just the sight of one of you, or all of you, will make my heart skip a beat. It's like falling in love. Over and over again.

So Anne, I know that it's not the path for everyone to have children. I do not presume that it's impossible to be happy without them. But if you do decide not to take that path I pray it will not be because you didn't think I found it worth it. Because, for me, the things I have had to give up have paled in comparison to what I have gained. For nothing I have ever done has made me feel less important, more scared, closer to God, and well, happier... than being your mom. And if I haven't told you, or shown you that lately...shame on me.

SSSOAM

I used to have a blog. It fizzled and died, partly of my own doing, partly from circumstances out of my control. So I came here, and have made a positively dreadful attempt at a fresh start. I miss blogging, but not acutely. More in a vague nagging kind of way, like a friend you keep meaning to call--really want to call, in fact--but never do. Until finally you can't call because it's been too long and the elapsed time has made conversation awkward and forced.

So what does one write about when it's been two weeks without any words?

Tonight I went to Boo's preschool graduation. Oh, I know the idea of graduating from preschool--as if they had achieved some sort of degree in letter recognition and finger painting--is absurd. They even played Pomp and Circumstance and processed down the church isles wearing little felt graduation hats. This is exactly the sort of hoopla which typically incites one of my "Oh lets celebrate every tiny accomplishment until there is no such thing as an accomplishment and we are all just wonderful and equal and deserving of only perfectly lovely things" spiels. But I have a confession...

I cried.

It's true! Because next year Boo will be in Kindergarten. And while I was adjusting Boo's collar and attempting to conquer his cowlick I realized that at this time next year the boy resenting my grooming attemps will be the one far taller than me. And he will be wearing a real polyester cap-and-gown and graduating from high school. And somehow the steps between those two boys seem pitifully few. Especially in restrospect.

So I guess I should write about the fact that I have become a Sniveling Sentimental Sap of a Mom, (i.e. SSSOAM) this week.

Anne had her 7th grade awards program tonight at the same time as Boo's "graduation" ceremony. We had been notified that she would be receiving some undisclosed type of award and she had also elected to sing at the ceremony. So I was (in the manner consistent with my new role as a SSSOAM) absolutely distraught to not be able to attend both events.

Which did I choose? The faux graduation ceremony with pint-size accoutraments and very loud singing which still somehow manages to be really-stinkin-cute? Or the middle-school awards program with the mystery award which could very well be something absurd like "Bothered to come to school almost every day" but in which my daughter had been asked to sing? Fortunately, duty solved this problem for me. I work at Boo's preschool so I felt it would be in bad taste not to attend his, ahem, commencement ceremonies.

So Mr. Crumbs--instinctually understanding that the best way to deal with a SSSOAM is with complete obedience--attended Anne's ceremony, video camera in hand. And while I was sobbing with the other SSSOAMS at the preschool graduation, he videotaped her receiving what turned out to be quite an impressive award. As well as singing a lovely a capella song. So when I returned home with one very proud Kindergartener-to-be and watched the videotape of my almost-thirteen-year-old daughter standing, vulnerable, in front of her classmates, doing what I never could have done...Well...

I cried again. Obviously.

I would have given a lot for one of Hermione's time turners tonight. To have been able to sit, in-person, at both events. To watch both of my middle children walk an isle to receive an award, inconsequential or not. Because someday, not too far away, the walk and the awards won't be so inconsequential. And now, all I know for certain is that between now and then I don't want to miss a single thing. And now I'm teary again. This SSSOAM thing is already getting old.