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Posts tagged ‘motherhood’

Over, Overcome

Art begins with resistance – at the point where the resistance is overcome. No human masterpiece has ever been created without great labor. – Andre Gide

Confession: It is 3 pm and I’ve opened a bottle of wine.

I’m not a big drinker, for obvious reasons. I’m a nurse, I like my liver, and that liver is already working overtime to deal with Sprycel.

You know, the drug that’s saving my life.

But, occasionally, I have a glass of wine. Red, white, I’ll even have a – decent – glass of rose. Just one. With friends. On a Friday. To beef about an erhm, interesting week.

Like today.

My feet are wet. My eyes are propped open with toothpicks. My fingers are freezing.

I am trying to bring said fingers back to life by typing.

(So far, I’ve had to rewrite these 150 words three times, so I’m not sure it’s working.)

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Career Motherhood

Source: google.com via Morgan on Pinterest

My childhood aspirations didn’t include motherhood.

No, that’s not accurate. My plans included motherhood.

But that was just it. I thought I would do all of these really great things, and tuck my children in there somewhere, like something you check off a to-do list.

Is that such a terrible idea? First-time parents – particularly those career-oriented individuals who’ve waited to start a family – might understand what I mean. Actors bring their children to movie sets. Lawyers spend their lunches at playgrounds. Doctors build offices next to their houses and see their children between patients.

Surely I could manage that, right?

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Wednesday’s Wonder Women: Eleanor Roosevelt

A woman is like a tea bag – you can’t tell how strong she is until you put her in hot water. – Eleanor Roosevelt

Every time I go to work, I feel my heart rip out of my chest.

No, not really. But the thundering thump-thump-thump of my girls feet on the stairs, racing to give me a goodbye hug as I head out the door, always makes me feel conflicted.

I love my job. I love how much it connects to what I do at home: at work, I help women become mothers; at home, I try not to lose it with my own children.

Some days are more successful than others. Some days, I’m relieved to head out the door and deal with something else’s issues rather than my own. Other days, I wish I could curl up on the couch and read Biscuit books with my kids.

Some of my stay-at-home-mom friends tell me how they can’t believe I work outside the home. Others wish they had that outlet. Others (genuinely) wonder if I’m doing the right thing by working.

Sometimes I wonder the same thing.

And, other times, often only five minutes after I wonder if  I should still be doing this, I’m so glad I do what I do. Read more

The Wonder Woman of My Week: My Mom

I’m done. And it’s only a day and a half in.

Confession: I’m one of those moms that hates back-to-school. I love my kids. I love the lazy-hazy days of summer. I love the lack of stress, deadlines, and strict schedules.

But, of course, kids need to go to school. And when almost-six-year-old Noelle  rattled off a string of very important information – in extremely coherent fashion, I may add – on the drive home from school yesterday, I realized how much she’d grown in a year.

But still I sit here, ten minutes before her lunch bell will ring, wondering if she’ll be okay on the playground and if she’ll get back to her class on time when the bell rings and will she like what’s in her lunch, and I realize why my mom used to pick me up at lunch time some days in grade one.

It wasn’t just to help me get used to the long days, though it definitely helped. It was also – likely – because she missed me.

That’s why I feel like driving to the school right now, right?

Sigh. I’ve got a bad case of first-child-in-grade-one syndrome.

I know this stage brings a lot of freedom. But I hear some people talk about all the stuff they get done once the kids are in Grade one, and I think, uh, what? When? It seems busier, somehow. Am I really going to be able to keep this up for the next 15 or 20 years?

And of course my next thought is: wow, my mom was awesome.

No, seriously. She was. She was always there when I got home. She was always ready to talk, even when I was fourteen and I wasn’t ready to talk until 10 pm. She volunteered in all my extra-curriculars, just so she could know what it was like to be me, and so she could know the people I spent most of my time with. She didn’t do it because she was starving for activity, because if there’s one thing my mom has never needed, it’s more things to do. She did it because she wanted to be a part of my life. She wanted to be trusted with confidences. She wanted to be my friend, even when I annoyed the crap out of her.

I still annoy her, I know. But I ‘m so grateful for all that energy she gave me.

Some people say I intimidate them. I’m always shocked by this, because these are usually the people who are so good at all the things I’m not. These are the people I wish I could be more like. And yet I think, deep down, that if there’s anything to intimidate, at all, it might be that I’ve learned that, even with my large, glaring flaws, I’m still worth something.

Because we all have glaring flaws. And we all do some things really, really well. And we’re all worth something, because we’re us and no one else can do that as well as we can.

And the person who taught me that, of course, was my mom.

She didn’t teach me that with her words. She taught me that with her actions.

She was quick to listen, slow to cast judgment. She put her book down the minute I started to talk. She asked me that great question more times than I can count: and how do you feel about that?

She gave me enough of her that I now feel able to give something to my girls. And even when I don’t feel able, I choose to be able, because I want to be that kind of mom.

If there’s one thing I could wish for my kids – or for everyone’s kids, or everyone’s moms, or just everyone – it would be that we’d all be so okay being us that we’d have the strength to let everyone else be them, too.

Even if – and when – everyone else is so, so different from us.

So today, I may feel overwhelmed with activity, but I also feel overwhelmed with gratitude. Because I was given to, when I needed it the most, and now I’m free to give back.

Thanks, Mom.

 

 

The Wonder Woman of My Week: Noelle Meredith

Yesterday we had a crisis of Meredith proportions.

Noelle had written yet another illustrated story. This time, it was painstakingly drawn and shaded in pencil. She wrote of two sisters: Rachel & Noelley. Yes, the ‘y’ was intentional; its pronounced, Noell-ey.

Rachel is sensible, responsible, takes care of Noell-ey. Rachel has curly hair and pretty dresses. Noell-ey is silly, always getting in trouble, and the baby of the family. She puts her hair in ponytails and jumps around the house.

No symbolism there, right?

Little Elliana found the title page of this book and decided she’d add her own whimsical drawings. Those drawings included scratching out much of Noelle’s original work.

And then Elliana decided to reorder the story.

Noelle found it. And the screaming began.

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Monday’s Mama Musings, Just a Day Late: Its Okay to be You, and You, and You

I had intended to write a very short post this morning, something about contentment, or perhaps why conflict may not always be a bad thing, maybe. I had several adorable anecdotes to share with you all, moments that would make us smile at the curiosity and freshness of children. But spending a week away with those dearest to me and reconnecting with some whom I see but a few times a year has propelled me in a different direction. Read more

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