Human Beings

Big Personalities? Oh Yeah

Bundled in my green and black winter coat, texting gloves on my hands, I stood at the doorway with my two sons as they waited for the bus on the only day the powers that be managed not to cancel school last week. Their mouths ran a mile a minute; I struggled to keep up as they bounced from thought to thought, concept to concept, grievance to grievance. I blinked slowly, lifting my ever-present morning cup of coffee to my lips.

As they continued their morning imparting of knowledge and asking of questions, I felt as if I floated above the scene, watching it all happen as a third party. Suddenly, I felt overwhelmed with their presence. No, not their presence. Their existence.

I don’t mean that their non-stop talking made me feel overwhelmed or anxious. I don’t mean that I wanted them to get on the school bus and go away. No. I suddenly felt absolutely floored that these two individual human beings … were human beings. Real, little human beings with thoughts and feelings and opinions and memories and great big personalities. While once they slid out of my body and fit in the crook of my arm, now they stood before me with all of the words; my feet fit in their socks.

Getting to know them seems to be a constant, never-ending process. Just when I think I know who they are, who they might be, they change. They change what they like or what they’re interested in. They grow out of clothes or phases. They suddenly become new people, trying on different masks and identities. I frequently find myself in awe of their lack of fear when it comes to figuring out who they want to be, who they are in this moment. When do we lose that? When did I lose that?

As they continued to talk my ear off, a smile crept across my face. I find it so amazing, this constant journey of watching them grow and change and become who they will someday be. These little beings that came from within me will someday turn into adults. The journey on the way to that end result may push all of my buttons — and their own — but in the still small moments of motherhood, I feel so honored to be along for this ride.

These little beings that came from within me will someday turn into adults

Morning fart jokes — before I’ve finished that first cup of coffee — and all.

 

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I’ll Take What I Can Get

And, Breathe

A Moment in the Snow

During a span of 60 hours, I spent a total of 20 of those hours behind the wheel.

I spent another 30 minutes laughing at two little boys in a jet tub that accidentally filled with bubbles when they washed their hair. I spent an hour and a half on a treadmill. I took a 15 minute shower, which felt like a luxury compared to my normal eight minute in-and-out showers at home. I rushed through Target in approximately 14 minutes, mainly because it took me an extra 11 minutes to get there as Apple Maps landed us in a field instead of in the parking lot. I spent multiple, loud hours with my extended family, soaking in the sound of their voices and the shape of their noses; I wanted to memorize the little things to get through the gaps in time we get to spend together, sitting around the table, each talking over one another. I spent the last two hours of the 10 hour drive home sipping a bad iced tea, wishing away a massive headache, and squinting at the singular clear lane.

Today, I attempted to get work done while the boys, home again, vied for my attention. I helped them work through their last two days of Blizzard Bags, wiping their tears away when frustration levels peaked. I doled out snacks while on a conference call. I gave the dog a bath. I made a delicious and healthy dinner. I managed a shower and even put on on real clothes.

And despite the cold temperatures due to the Polar Vortex (of DOOM), I took the dog outside — just for a few moments, seconds, nanoseconds, cold breaths — of alone time. Because as much as I love all of the time with my sons, with my mother, with my cousins, with my aunt and uncle, with random people along the journey route, I need my alone time. As much as I love to talk, to connect with those in my life, I am an introvert. I crave alone time. I need to breathe in and close my eyes and exhale slowly. I need personal space, room to stretch and grow.

When all of the connections and time together get jammed into 60 hours, six minutes in the below zero wind chill feel even more precious than normal. I’ll take what I can get.

And, Breathe