Thoughts on Motherhood on Mother’s Day.

But aside from that, I wanted to do a little motherhood check-in — today of all days. Since I can’t be with my mom who (I think) I’ve taken a majority of my tips and tricks from — I have a bit a time. I say that last sentence laughingly because this post has taken me about 11 hours to write. Anyway…

Today marks the second holiday in quarantine! It’s starting to be very normal to stay in — though I’m definitely missing seeing family and friends in person. We’ve had a few drive-by parades, and driveway waves and we even played in my parent’s driveway while they stayed inside. But we haven’t gone anywhere — we do all drive-up store shopping (this isn’t a change for us), haven’t gotten take-out food or fast food and other than waving and a quick chat to our neighbors from afar we’ve just been with each other. Our five member family feels a little like we live in another state where we don’t know anyone at all!

I took some forced photos of me with the kids today (they were apparently too busy — so had to be bribed with Reese’s). I hope that’s no indication of my mothering abilities but it is how I deal with things in a pinch. My hope is that one day my children do things for others because they see how important it is to that person — at 4, 2 and 5 months, I’m aware that’s out of their realm. So: enter The Hershey Company.

But aside from that, I wanted to do a little motherhood check-in — today of all days. Since I can’t be with my mom who (I think) I’ve taken a majority of my tips and tricks from — I have a bit a time. I say that last sentence laughingly because this post has taken me about 11 hours to write. Anyway…

Mothering a 4 year old:

Javi is 4 years old; he’d quickly point out to you that he’s four AND A HALF. He’s musical and loving and energetic. He’s imaginative and curious and kind. He’s motivated externally (which kills my Montessori heart) and loves all things related to superheroes and dinosaurs. He sings and dances and reads and writes. He draws and paints and plants and karate-chops. He’s never walking; jumping, skipping, hopping, leaping, and racing are more his speed when it comes to moving from A to B. He hugs and kisses and squeezes just a little too tight and tells me he’s never, ever going to leave me. He’s strong and sturdy and sensitive. His palate is bland; never too daring and sticks to a few food staples to get by. He’s an early riser, a night owl, and a deep sleeper. He’s never too far from his favorite stuffed animals, loves to snuggle under blankets, his feet are always freezing and he gives goodnight kisses to every person and cat in the house. He enjoys the present but is always thinking about the future; “what’s next” is his constant wonder.

Being his mother is no small feat. There are days that nothing I do is right. And that’s not me being pretentious — he literally tells me that nothing I do is right. And that’s not him being mean — he’s literally being four. While this can be discouraging, it’s a challenge I try to rise to. Because he’s the oldest, maybe, I’m extremely aware of what during this pandemic he’ll hold on to? — what will stick with him and what will make an imprint? I find I’m always trying to impress him — always aiming to keep him busy so that his energetic body doesn’t get into trouble. When I’m “on” (and I admit somedays I’m just “off”) — we go from inside to outside, to art projects and lessons and science experiments and board games all before lunch time. Sometimes it’s for me to feel like a good mother and sometimes it’s just because I feel like he needs it. He thrives on attention and activity. He thrives with people and nature and me. He’s the one who uses most of my energy. Mothering a 4 (and a half) year old is never boring and at times, even tricks me into thinking my child is a lot older than he truly is. Sometimes I think he’ll understand something (humor, a concept, a conversation) only to see a blank face staring back at me that snaps me back to reality. Woah, this person has only been on this Earth for 4 years. I still can’t wrap my head around this because for me, it feels like he has always been in my life.

Mothering a 2 year old:

Lola is 2 years, 5 months old. She’s boldly independent. This isn’t her age; this is surely her character. She’s joyful and determined and lovable. She’s silly and feisty and strong-willed. Lola wakes up every day with a plan. She doesn’t veer off course and thinks that every idea she has is the best idea in the world. Her outbursts when you tell her otherwise are as intense as her love of her babies. She loves fiercely and fights honestly and holds true to herself. Lola is content on the couch, not moving a muscle for hours at a time. She doesn’t crave being outdoors but if you convince her to put on her shoes (which will take close to 30 minutes) she loves it so much that she doesn’t want to come back inside. Lola loves sparkles and glitter and all things pink (though she calls it pur-pul“) and she’s also never clean, always has food on her shirt or paint on her chin. She loves being creative and looking through books and being a big sister. She’s daring and brave and will never turn down a meal or a snack or a spicy treat. She’s a sleeper, changes her outfit 3 times a day and very much enjoys the ride she’s on. Lola doesn’t concern herself with the past (even 2 minutes ago) and the future hasn’t crossed her mind. She’s all about the present and she embraces it with open arms.

Mothering a 2 year old is like herding multiple cats; I should know, we have 3 of those. It’s true that if things are too quiet, something is wrong. Lola already has strong likes and dislikes and makes things known. For instance, if I try to hug and hold Lola (like the way I can with Javi) — she’s very clear that she doesn’t want it to be happening. Things have to be her idea and on her terms. “No” is her most commonly used word. Sometimes it’s loud and disruptive, almost startling. Sometimes it’s apathetic. “Lola, can I give you a kiss?” — “no“. Her eyes are always open wide and she has that thing where she’s always watching and listening even when she appears to be invested in something else. She’s the one who uses up most of my patience. She’s playful at times and serious at times and doesn’t take re-direction or distraction well. She’s focused and deliberate. There are a few moments in the day, when she wakes up in the morning or from a nap and right before bed that she wants me. All of me. She wants my arms and my lap and my smile. She’ll squeeze my face between her hands and look into my eyes as if she’s pleading with me to see her. When these moments have to end so that the day can begin or finish or so that I can help someone else, I feel such guilt. She sighs, sometimes yells and seems disappointed. But usually just as those moments come, they go and she carries on through the day or night without wanting or needing much of or from me. She’s my self-reliant, self-sufficient two year old who’s a bit precocious — and because she’s so autonomous I often wonder to myself — did I do enough for her today? Did I offer enough of myself? Did I worry about her enough? Did I spend enough one on one time with her? (A startling “no” is my typical response to each of these, by the way).

Mothering a 5 month old:

Eva is 5 months old (nearly 6 months). She’s observant and happy (sometimes). She’s predictable and sticks to her routine — sleep, play, eat, repeat. She smiles with her eyes. You know those kids who just have that twinkle? Eva has it. She’s attracts you to her. She’s like a magnet. She’s engaging and lovable. She’s growing into her body and right out of her clothes. She loves her brother and sister and is mesmerized by all that they do. She spends most of her waking hours eating her hands and chatting up a storm. She never stops making noise! Sometimes she’s so loud I actually try to shush her because I can’t hear my own thoughts. She’s a strong little girl who is content alone (but prefers touching me). She likes to be squished and comfy on my body and also looks so satisfied when she can sprawl out her limbs in her own space. She definitely fights for attention — and is probably winning.

Mothering a 5 month old is the easiest part of my day. The idea that I once found 1 baby difficult is laughable to me now. This doesn’t mean it’s not a challenge to have a baby — it’s just literally the simplest challenge I deal with every day. She stays where I put her, her cries each mean something that I have down to a science, she’s timed out like clockwork and did I mention she stays where I put her? All that said, she’s the one who takes up all of my time. She demands a lot of me and no amount of reason or logic can be explained to her. She doesn’t get “let me help Javi real quick” or “let me sit with Lola for two more minutes”. When she’s ready for me, I need to be ready for her. And that can be exhausting. There’s no on/off switch for a 5 month old. I can pull off a bad day with Javi by giving him a “new” toy and snacks and I squeeze by with Lola by offering multiple snacks and Moana. But there’s no time freedom from Eva. There’s no shortage of hugs and holds and smiles and songs and rocking back and forth. Anything she needs, comes from me — not from a tablet, or a bag of goldfish, or a new Lego set. But mothering a 5 month old is sweet. It’s giving and giving and giving and being shown true appreciation for everything you’ve given through giggles and smiles and smalls hands that reach out for any part of you they can hold on to. And then those hands tighten and so does your breath and your heart and you just melt.

I’m not sure which age has been my favorite yet and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to choose because I think Eva’s 2 will look different than Lola’s and Lola’s 4 will look different than Javi’s. But I do know that being the mother each child needs at whatever age — is my main focus in life and I wouldn’t want to be spending my energy, patience or time doing anything else.


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