Now

I came across these two poems earlier today and they resonated with me. They speak clearly to our life at this moment. I have so many raw emotions right now. Thinking Gavin may be our last baby has filled my eyes with tears on many occasions. I actually messaged Chris at work yesterday, saying maybe we should  have one more child so Gavin would have a playmate as well. Ha. (That's not going to happen. It was a moment of sheer insanity.) Babyhood is not my favorite period of motherhood, but I could eat up every snuggle, smile and stare. Juggling three has been a chaotic existance. I am filled with constant worry and anxiety as thoughts of forgetting something, neglecting someone, forcing Mya and Claire to help too much and thereby grow up too quickly run rampant in my head. I've spent much time reflecting on each period of transition--bringing Claire home from the hospital, then bringing Mya into our family, and finally Gavin. Each period was filled with bits of chaos and stress. Each period was survived and enjoyed. And each one looks less chaotic now. For the time being, life is full of prioritizing, praying, savoring each happy moment while forgetting others, and trying each and everyday to be the Momma my amazing children deserve. That, my friends, is my daily battle--being and giving everything to everyone and making sure, all the balls I am juggling, stay in motion. Knowing that in a matter of weeks, summer will be upon us and schedules will be put on hold, adventures will be had and family time will be plentiful is that light at the end of this tunnel.

Sentimentalby Annie Flavin

“You’re so sentimental now.”

I respond defensively at first.

But then,

I think,

how would I otherwise

make it through?

I pour myself

a glass at 5pm,

or meet friends at a park,

to laugh off the day.

But then,

when it’s the middle of the night

and the bottle’s empty

and the friends are asleep,

but my baby is awake,

what then?

When I’m so tired

that anger is the first emotion

I feel

when the few minutes of sleep

I’ve gotten

are interrupted,

I stop myself.

I’ve dreamed of you.

I’ve wanted you.

You are everything to me.

If I don’t take a moment,

to watch them while they sleep on me,

how can I deal with them

while they’re awake?

If I don’t take a moment

to notice and remark

on their tiny hands and pudgy feet,

how can I stand

the trail of disaster

they leave in their wake?

Is a toddler whiney?

Is a teenager moody?

A mother is sentimental.

I’ve seen the mother

of older kids

glancing at me in the grocery store

as I corral my children.

She looks

wistfully

at the chaos

and says,

“Enjoy it. It goes by so quickly.”

She’s a sap, too,

like all of the mothers before her.

Just like me. Just like you.

Just like all of us

when we remember

our baby asleep

on our chest.

Each Time

by Annie Flavin

Each time

I put them down to rest,

I kiss them good-night,

I kiss all of my screw-ups good-bye,

and I vow that

when they awaken,

we will all be new.

We can begin again.

We can start fresh.

Each and every moment.

If we can ditch

our own hang-ups and hangings-on of where we’ve failed,

and give fresh love

and serious attention,

they’ll rise right to us.

In fact,

most of the time,

they’re waiting for me

in that fresh, new space.

I just have to join them.