Wednesday, March 18, 2015

Ode to Motherhood Part 3 (of 3). The Magnificent (albeit, messy) Living Masterpiece. Remember YOURS, I revel in MINE.

....Continued from "Ode to Mothering Part 2: I'm no Tiger mom, but I am no Sheep."

When I told them about our separation, they were present, they trusted me wholly and it's been open communication and calm ever since. I'm not tooting my horn, I'm citing empirical data that my mothering is not up for debate. Ever.

No matter how you try to spin my personal life issues. I have screwed up, mis-stepped, gone the wrong way and sullied my reputation, yes. Still, without the slightest falter or quicker in my voice, hear me say: I am a mother. If you are one too, say it out loud. 

My biggest prides are their own people, but each and everyone came from my flesh and blood, two of them were in modeling gigs. ( in my stomach) My first daughter taught me that all hardships bloom into beauty. She was near-evil as an infant. I swore she'd be an only child, and then she grew. Bigger than you can imagine.

I'll call my first born "Big Heart." When she was 2 my husband and I watched her play with several children at the health club. She saw a boy get left out of some game. He retreated to cry sitting against a wall. We watched her notice him as she played in the exact game he was banished from. She walked with deliberation and sat next to him. Arm on his shoulder, head tilted saying something. At two she wasn't using too many words, but they worked. Together they stood. I, watching from the elevated track, cried.

This kid is a mini nurturer, and an advocate for the lonely, left out, or simply needy. For her birthday, I asked her if she thought she needed so many toys? She offered to have people bring used toys she could donate. She beamed pride.

Big heart serves food at shelter.
At 7 she saw people, with kids lining up at the church across from our house at the time. We talked about how lucky she is, and she wanted to volunteer across the street at a church that serves dinner and houses the homeless one night a week. So, she wasn't born with the "killer instinct" her parents are filled with when it comes to competition.

No, she is far better than I could have hoped for. She is my  beautiful surprise.
Her instinct is LOVE.

My "spit-fire" mini-me middle is athletic, nimble (in sport and mind) but I'm constantly reminding her about "being NICE and KIND." Like all children they live comfortably in the psychological "ID" She is self-aborbed, leans towards fast jealousy and has a bit of a mean bone.

She is a combination of my sister and I. She has that kind of twinkle in her eye that can light up a room, or flatten a person. I try to nurture this beautiful boldness, her strange, almost psychic knowing, and this confidence she possesses.

 Its a balance too, between teaching compassion and letting her get a bit burned when her attitude comes back to bite her. She by far is the one most like me. That scares and envelopes me in absolute smitten love for her, and the whimsical journey of who she will grow into.

Just this morning, I tried to explain "karma." I told her that when you do say hurtful or mean things to anyone, even if no one else sees it, the magic of the universe will make sure to do it right back at you. Usually it comes back, waaaay bigger and worse."

 ( If only she knew by my present life...) Her response with tilted head and a hint of questioning in her eyes: "Not all the time. " She said it like a statement. She does this often, fibbing an innate skill. I said: "Ohhh, sugar. Every TIME, and way worse. Trust me. I'm telling you to help you." She took it in. We'll see. My best, her father, often jokes she'll be in "Hollywood, Sales, or Incarceration."

I meditate every day that she is none of those, but transforms the very things that could harm her, or someone else, into a keen understanding that does only good. ( fingers crossed)

My baby "Bub", my son holds a special place in my heart. When he arrived, life threw some curve balls at me. Betrayal, and fear and sickness for him. (He ended up fine) but we bunkered and bonded deeply in that first year.

I remember I would whisper to him many times during the day, and during 2am feedings: "Its you and me kid, we can do this." It was a bit of pep-talk mantra for me, but he heard it. The "prized" son we always wanted, arrived, looks nothing like me and is a total Mama's boy. (for now)

He is my biggest physical challenge by far. He tests me, clings on to me like a human front-pack when he's sick or crabby. If there is a way to destroy, test it's gravity or break something, he'll find a way. He is only two, yet I have never seen something so small consume so much food. He is my bunker-Bub, and sometimes, and I say this lovingly, a complete A-hole.

Come hell or high water, I am a mother. I live it, earn it, know when to outsource it in doses. On a day like this, I stop in absolute awe at the kaleidoscope of moments I have been so lucky to co-create. Their compassion, and thoughtful gestures, the witty come-backs, the simple and the complicated physical feats they conquer. Even the sound of my son and his screaming: "I DID IT!" pride reverberates like-minded pride within me. I am imperfect, indeed,
but  I am a mother.

  Take everything else, take it all, but you will not take away the most magnificent work-in-progress that is my living masterpiece. 

If you are a mother too, (or a father) take a minute or five, think of all you've sacrificed, and lost, but then go to the "high light reel" of these little people you created, adopted, raised and see that no matter what happens, or how you may have failed, you are a parent. You are still here, and you have 
so much. Be PROUD. Be GRATEFUL. 
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