This is my yard, covered with a zillion leaves which need to be raked and bagged.
And, this is what is still to come.
For almost six months, when my daughter was a baby, she slept in our bed. This wasn’t me being a nurturing mother. This wasn’t co-sleeping. This was an eighteen-pound baby lying on my chest because she wouldn’t sleep in her crib. Out of desperation, her father and I brought her into our room, and within a week, she had managed to slither on top of me and nuzzle her face in my neck. We slept like that every night, until she got so big that her sweaty body felt like a Toyota on my chest.
She still frequently climbs into our bed. Bad dreams, noises, upset tummy and trips to the potty end with a visit to our room. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wondered why things are suddenly a lot more crowded, and I have a lot less blanket.
But, my five year old son…well, he’s an entirely different story. He has NEVER slept in our bed. Well, maybe once, because he was sick and we forced him to. Not only that, he won’t get out of his bed unless we physically go into his room and tell him to get up. Not even on weekend mornings, when we would delight in having him watch cartoons with his sister while we sleep in.
The other night, when he went to bed with an upset stomach, then woke at 4:00 AM moaning and whining, I ran to his room and climbed in bed with him. It only took a minute to realize that his twin bed and my pinched nerve were no match, and since he wasn’t feeling well I thought he should come sleep with us. But when I asked him if he wanted to, he put his hand on my arm, stopped moaning, and in a strangled whisper said, “No. You go.” As if he was a gallant hero who was uttering his last words…”I’ll be okay. Just save yourself.”
As I climbed from his bed, I said, “I really think you should come sleep with Mommy.” But suddenly, he was a lot less chivalrous, though still full of drama…when instead of uttering a word, he simply turned his face to his wall and pointed to the door.
I started working again last week. More or less, I have been out of the work-force since late 1998, when my daughter was born. For those, like me, who are math impaired…that’s nine years.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve kept pretty busy with my two preemie kids. For awhile, my son’s therapy, doctor’s appointments, insurance hassles and healthcare needs were a full-time job. But now, he’s five and in preschool. He even eats lunch there. He doesn’t need me so much anymore.
My daughter has become little Miss Self-Sufficient lately. I woke the other day to find her in the kitchen packing her lunch for school. Little does she know, her chore list is about to get a lot longer. Momma’s gonna need a hand.
That leads me to the real purpose of this post. I have always given accolades to working Moms and Dads (to the youngsters in the house…that means something like mad props). But, I was short-changing them by saying things like, “I don’t know how you do it”. I should’ve been saying, “You are amazing because you do it”. People who have something left to give to their kids when they have been working all day…well quite frankly, that’s just unbelievable…and at this point, it baffles me.
I’m still trying to find out how it works, how you juggle all these responsibilities. But, I’m excited and ready for the challenge. I want my children to know that you need to be determined and keep your nose to the grindstone. I want them to see that you can have your cake and eat it too. That you can be a successful employee, a caring Mom, a great friend, and still have time to take care of yourself!
Either that, or I’ll show them that if you bite off more than you can chew, you end up choking and falling over dead. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.
Follow
Email
Follow