this is who I was meant to be

Taking my little family from one kid to two has been so much fun! Going from parenting one four year to a four year and a two year old has been challenging, but it has been more exciting and rewarding than I had imagined. My boys are getting to know each other, starting to play together, and slowly starting to show a little less jealousy when Mommy's attention is needed with one child over the other. Just a little less. I still always have at least one child hanging off of me, and I wouldn't want it any other way.

When my older son was a toddler I watched his every move. I baby proofed our entire house and admonished my husband when he didn't close both the gate at the bottom of the stairs and the one at the top. I never let him eat unless he was sitting in his high chair. I was over the top careful with my sweet little guy. This time around I am finding that I am a lot calmer. I have learned that my older son is going to climb over the sofa, which means that, occasionally, he will fall off. I have watched both my boys stand on a kitchen chair to reach the counter. I have witnessed them falling over in the bathtub and dunking into the water. I know they will fall, they will scrape their knees, they will eat too much cotton candy and have tummy aches. And none of it will throw me into a panic.

I truly feel as though I have come into my own. This is what I was meant to be; a wife and a mother. There is nothing that I want more, and nothing more that I want in my life. I knew I would be happy when my family was complete, but I had no idea I would be this happy. And this is how I know. This was my morning yesterday:

My two year old managed to complete all of these tasks between 7:45 am and 11:00am:

•  take ever paper out of the accordion file I had been using for the adoption and spread them throughout the living room. Anyone who has ever gone through the adoption process knows how much paperwork is involved. That file was full of copies of every document we might ever need, and every copy was tossed onto the floor. It looked like it was snowing in my living room.
• take every small toy and matchbox car out of the canvas bin, look at it, and toss it aside.
• take every pot and pan out of the cupboard, bang them together, then throw on kitchen floor, making lots and lots of noise.
• steal Mommy's cell phone and hide in seat compartment of school bus riding toy.
• sit in high chair and throw shape shorting blocks across kitchen, narrowly missing Mommy's head. Repeat three times before Mommy finally takes blocks away.
• sneak off to ride big brother's new scooter, fall off repeatedly, cry. run over own foot, Mommy's foot and the cat. Repeat.
• dump bag of goldfish crackers on kitchen floor, amid Tupperware and pans previously removed from cupboards. run over crackers with scooter. sit on cracker pile and eat own weight in colored goldfish.
• shove cheese curl into DVD player. Refuse to show Mommy where cheese curl had been hiding. (I didn't even know we had cheese curls...)
• remove shorts and diaper. attempt to flush diaper down toilet. run around house naked while waving diaper over head. giggle.

all of this in 3 hours. It took me most of the afternoon to clean everything up. And I loved it. This is what I was meant to do.

let go of expectations but hang on to that Christmas candle!

Earlier today I stopped in to visit my mom. The assisted living where she lives is beautifully decorated for the holiday- twinkly lights on the trees lining the walkway to the door, large pine wreaths on the double glass doors leading in to the community. There is a beautiful tree in the living room, nestled next to the fireplace, which is festooned with pine garlands and large red and gold ornaments. My mom has been a little under the weather this week, which is something to watch due to her history with asthma. At one point earlier in the week her physician wanted her to go to the hospital but thanks to me not getting that message in a timely manner she never made it there, choosing instead to stay in her apartment and wait out whatever illness was lurking inside her. Today she is much better, so I can let go of the guilt of not hearing the phone ring at 4am on Tuesday.
When I arrived at her home today it was 15 minutes before the dining room opened for lunch. The usual crowd had gathered in the living room, right outside the closed dining room doors. I swear they put crack in the coffee there- everyone is always in such a hurry to get in that they pile up outside the doors! I scanned the room quickly and didn't see Mom so I headed to her apartment. Where she was not. Hmmmm.
When I headed back to the living room I saw her sitting in a wing backed chair by the fireplace, listening to a gentleman wearing a Santa hat play Christmas carols on the piano. I had completely missed her the first time I scanned the room. When I think of my mother I picture a short spry black haired woman. That is who I look for when I visit her community. I never find that woman though. Who I found today is who I always find these days; a gray haired, slightly hunched over older woman. She just blends in with all the other nicely dressed gray haired ladies sitting in the living room listening to a gentleman in a Santa hat play carols on the piano.
I realized today during my short visit with Mom that she is having a better holiday season at her assisted living home than she ever would have had home alone. Even though my family will be heading to Cleveland on Christmas day and she will be alone, she has had a steady parade church visitors, carolers, music programs, day care visitors, and cookie baking activities. She has been surrounded by beautifully decorated rooms and the constant notes of Christmas music. She will see the community associates she has come to know and like, and sometimes, rely on. She will not be alone on Christmas day, save for the few hours we manage to spend with her as we split our time between two sets of in-laws. Another guilt I need to let go of. My mother will be fine on Christmas.
I receive a daily email from Whole Living magazine sharing a daily action plan. Short, simple ways to live more simply, more greenly, (OK, I am pretty sure that is not a word, but just go with it.) Today's plan: shifting holiday expectations and learning to appreciate the little things. This is a great action item for me because I have spent the past year working on this. Adding balance and peace to my family's life has been a goal of mine since last year, and I feel as though my efforts have been successful. But this little bit of advice couldn't have come at a better time. In my usual fashion I had planned out this entire holiday season. Our "family fun" list was completed, our weekly calendars with schedules and meal planning were done. I knew what day I was addressing the Christmas cards and what day we would be visiting Santa. I wedged a family trip to New York City into our plans, thankfully planned and successfully carried out by my husband. And now, three days before Christmas here I am with all the gifts purchased, cards in the mail, great memories of our trip and the sweetest photo of my little guy and Santa. The only thing left on my "to do" list is wrapping those presents and making a salad for Christmas dinner at my mother-in-law's home. So I am feeling pretty good. Our church is holding an "Eve Before You Leave" service tonight for all those people who find themselves traveling and unable to attend a service on Christmas Eve. We will be home on Friday but that will be our Christmas celebration so I am looking forward to attending the candle light service tonight. I am feeling very peaceful. (I know,can't you just picture the angels singing above my head?) But the reason I am feeling so serene is because I have been totally doing all month what that action plan asked me to do today. I stopped sweating the small stuff. I let go of the guilt of not being with my mother on Christmas. I bought smaller gifts for family and friends.I changed up the way we normally do our holiday open house to accommodate our new friends and everyone's growing families.  I brought home bakery Christmas cookies instead of dealing with the mess and hard work of making them myself. I let go of expectations, and so far, it has been an amazing holiday season!

can't let my passion cloud my vision

My baby is growing up. In my eyes, he is my baby still. In my eyes he still needs his bottles, his pacifiers, his crib. In my eyes he is not ready for potty training. In my eyes he needs to sit in his high chair, not at the table, and he needs his banana cut up; my baby can't hold the banana and eat it. When I look at my son, I see my son. My baby son.

When my husband looks at his son, he sees a little boy. A little guy who can safely play with matchbox cars and can sit at the table to eat his banana. Not just that, but he can sit at that table and eat that banana without Daddy hovering over him, waiting for him to topple out of the grown up chair while choking on the too big bite he just shoveled into his mouth.

So who is right? Certainly my husband is the more reasonable one here. He is not letting his emotions stand in the way of raising his son. But that doesn't make me wrong either, I don't think. Is it wrong to want to hold on to my little baby as long as I possibly can?

We have seen a few people recently who have not seen Matthew since he was about 17 months old. Back then, he was tiny, wearing 12 month old clothes and not able to handle a sippy cup. He stuck close to his mommy and fit perfectly into my arms. Now these people are seeing Matthew again, at 24 months old. Now they see a little boy who is confident enough to run all over the house, coming back to mommy every so often for encouragement and a hug. They see a little guy who can drink out of his cup and who can put the older child puzzles together with no problem. And they all comment. They all say things like "wow, he is so grown up." and "he is no longer a baby." He is still a baby! I want to shout this at them. He is still my baby!

I know that it is a good thing that my son is developing so well. I am proud that he is so smart. I applaud his desire to learn and explore. And I know that all of that comes with a price. The price of growing up. The cost of growing up seems to be charged directly to me though. Does the mother always pay? Do we pay for the loss of our babies? Does every move towards independence cost the mother dearly? Probably.

Of course it is worth it. I have this vision of my son as he grows. Of a boy who is confident, smart, independent. But my passion is this baby. I am already starting to miss my little baby.

I have to be sure that as we continue on this journey I don't let my passion get
in the way of my vision.