I very rarely wax poetic nonsense on this blog because I am much more interested in exploring my own inner demons. I have stated often that the ability to write out my words, to search deep within myself for the whys and the whats have saved me more often than not. The writing as a whole doesn’t save me, but rather it puts in perspective the little details of my life so that I can concentrate on the most important things.
Like most mothers I could pass a lie-detector test when speaking about the greatness of my children. There is no coy or snide putting down of them, nor is there regrets for who and what they are shaping up to be. They don’t know yet what they will be in this life, it is impossible for them to discover at this age – but I know.
I can see it in their frustrations as much as I can see it in their happiness. I can listen to their laughter and know what kind of movies they will love to see. I can watch as they sleep and know deep in my heart what it is that beats so loudly in their heart. It is the amazing gift of a mother. We know.
My son believes that I have eyes in the back of my head…literally. And I will never disabuse him of this notion. My brilliant son who can look at any math problem and solve it in his head, believes that I have eyes in multiple places. Of course this has taken years of paying attention, knowing when and where to catch him, and basically becoming psychiatrist, medium and altogether the best pro filer this world has ever seen to get him convinced…but really, it has been fun for me too.
With my kids I have become all kinds of super-heroes. I know the best spots for mutant monsters to attack and I know the best jewelry that will compliment my daughter’s taste. I can sword fight, run a mile, ride a roller coaster, and I can draw the best darn rainbow you have ever seen.
My daughter has taught me the meaning of the word fashionista. She has shown me what a powerful personality can really do, and she has taught me that I am kinda beautiful. I can sing the lyrics to her favorite songs and I have no problem spontaneously bursting out in dance in order to make her laugh.
They awe me these kids. Despite their tantrums at ridiculous times about things that are simple to everyone around them, they are my kids. Despite their interruptions at the exact moment I need peace and quiet, they are my kids. Despite the fact the word ‘please’ is literally the hardest word for them to ever say, they are my kids. Despite the fact that I will never truly be able to let them go, they are my kids.
I understand now, more than I ever have, what I have in those two small bodies. I have my future, my plans, all my decisions. I will spend the next decade or so creating a life for them, mostly at the expense of my own. I will work my tail off to teach them how to pursue their dreams, while I allow my dreams to fall apart. And I will happily give up my own satisfaction to provide them with the safe haven they deserve.
I don’t believe that children deserve much in this world. I believe more than anything they, like the rest of us, must work for what they want. I believe in studying, researching, learning how to go about in a world without a guidebook. But there is one absolute I do believe in: a child should be able to pursue all that they want to be in a haven of safety.
A mother’s job has nothing to do with the grades the kid makes or the way they can sing a song. A mother’s job doesn’t get a mansion or a nice paycheck at the end of it all, and we certainly aren’t guaranteed into any heavenly place. For the most part our children will never know the sacrifices that we made or the money we lost. They have no need to believe or to even question if they are a burden. And while love is absolutely in the equation the love should be used to build a haven for them to breathe. A place as safe as any we can make.
I don’t understand this life. I don’t understand my life. I don’t understand why I have been given these two children but I imagine it will probably be the first thing I ask when I leave this earth. I don’t deserve them. But like the air I breathe, I need them. The trick is to never let them know.