Reminiscing

I just finished reading a great book about motherhood written by a mother of nine. What made this book even more amusing was that this was the second edition. The author originally wrote the book as a young mother, and has now gone back as a grandmother and with only two teenagers left at home, to edit and remark on her earlier remarks. Her comments at her own strategies are amusing; sometimes she wonders what she was thinking and laughs at the complete ridiculousness of her crazy plans and life, other times she startles herself with her valuable insights and realizations. While I had an enjoyable time capturing a glimpse into this mother and family’s life (and even gathered some parenting tips), I’ve also found myself reminiscing on my earlier mothering moments. While I only have a short 6 years under my belt, I still find it amazing all that I’ve been through and how much I’ve learned and grown because of them.

My sister is about to have her first baby. What an incredible time, and what a nasty initiation into motherhood! Hindsight is a wonderful thing… and looking back to my first few months and years as a mother, there are numerous things I would change if I could. But I did the best I could – despite and maybe because I was so new at this thing called mothering. When trying to pinpoint the hardest time of being a mother, my mind fills with periods of peril. Severe postpartum depression, having a three year old and one year old and a newborn at the age of 23, times of sickness and pregnancy seem to top the board. I have awful memories of Mr. T and I having the chicken pox just weeks before Little E was born. And then just a week after he was born, the two little boys and I had hand foot mouth disease and I rotated putting one baby in the swing for 20 minutes while I rocked the other and then switched. That summer was definitely a summer of misery as I had a seriously colicky baby, our engine died on our car, Mr. Man was commuting far to far and I was packing up to move to an unfamiliar town void of friends and family. And yet looking back, though I groan inwardly, I also am grateful for those moments I was forced to hold my little boys, to slow down and cuddle when I myself needed a hug. Amidst all the hard days I have recorded so dedicatedly in my journals, I have memories of wonderful moments watching my children on the slip and slide and loving that they were 1, 2, and 4 respectively and loving the stages and ages we were enjoying so much. I enjoy the constant challenges and daily oppourtunities being a mother grant me. Nothing you read can really prepare you for the hands on experiences, only time can really teach you what all the parenting magazines and books promise and swear by. I’ve learned, after 6 years, that when you try and try to change your child and it still won’t work, you should probably look at changing your parenting technique!

Sometimes I feel like I should wake up and just pour a half gallon of milk on my floor – so that then it’s done and over with for the day! But instead I’ve learned to keep a steady supply of paper towels, a smile on my face and to enjoy the fact that my children now exclaim calmly, “My milk spilled, Mommy, can I have some more please?” Oh, how I have changed.