late night plays

ultimate dream

2013-05-21T12:10:34-02:30

I watched every second of this video, even as I could feel the sobs rising and my heart cracking.

He deserved that much—to be known and remembered.

Every second of it will stay with me, but it was the moment he shared his "ultimate dream" that I felt the most.

Have a family of my own. Maybe three or four kids.

If you are living that dream, be grateful and be great.

snapshot

2013-05-16T13:59:58-02:30

Do you want to know how to make me cry?

Send my grade three boy home with an assignment that asks for stories from his baby days, complete with pictures.

Because then, you see, I'd have to go into my walk-in closet, after the kids are in bed, and stand in front of the bookshelf that is bursting with photo albums.

In the quiet—without any little hands to poke at the glossy pictures with their who, what, where, when and whys—I would look for our story on those pages.

And even though it's still being written, there's so much worth remembering in the chapters behind us.

When I come to a photo of my son growing inside of me, I trace the swell of my belly with the tip of my finger—to connect to the feelings I remember so well: vibrant, excited, beautiful.

And I want to lean into the girl in the photo and say, You have no idea. There is so much more coming. Gratitude, magic, surprises, miracles. You are one million times more blessed than you are in this moment. Lucky, lucky you.

I look at photos of my children before they were a foursome and I wonder if they knew there was another friend on the way. When I find the photos of big sisters with brand new brothers and big brothers with baby sisters, I'm certain they knew—it's on their faces: Oh there you are, what took you so long?

There are also photos of family gatherings, and in them someone we miss so much. And I am reminded that the stress of pot lucks and rolled out sleeping bags and driveways filled with cars are worth it. That as much as the pizzazz of a birthday party with friends becomes an important part of childhood, family celebrations should never lose their place.

I see faces with less lines: the worrying kind and the ones that come from laughter.

And I feel so much affection and pride in the ways we have triumphed and held one another through the pages of this story.

I haven't put the albums back on the shelf yet. I feel like I need those reminders a little while longer.

Life unfolds itself, in loud and quiet moments. Each of those captured moments are gifts, and if I could frame every single one, I would.

For now, I walk past them at the end of the day on my way to bed.

Lucky you, I say to them, lucky you.

the best gifts

2013-05-10T16:38:10-02:30

Eleven years ago, JB knelt in front of me while I was nursing our newborn daughter, and handed me my first Mother's Day card. Before it happened, I used to imagine how I would feel—I thought it would mean so much, that I would be thrilled to be part of this club.

But the tears that leaked from my eyes had nothing to do with happiness. The gift card to the mall, so I could buy whatever made me feel good, would never be able to do that. I was exhausted and overwhelmed and feeling like a fraud.

I loved my baby, of course. But the reward and glowing satisfaction that epitomized Mother's Day eluded me. I didn't feel worthy of any acknowledgement. I wasn't good enough.

*************

I can remember making the hand print artwork that my own mom still keeps in her bedside table. I felt so much love and was so proud that she was mine.

Sitting in that chair, with my husband and brand new daughter watching, I was frozen with the thought that she might not feel the same. I cried when she cried. I cringed when she woke up right after I had spent an hour getting her to sleep. I reddened when I couldn't comfort her in public places.

How could she feel anything for me but shortchanged?

Of course, I couldn't have known how much better it would get; how much better I would get.

I couldn't have imagined how it would feel to be on the receiving end of my own hand print.

If you asked me to tell you about the gifts I've received since that first Mother's Day, I couldn't give you an answer. I don't remember a single one. But I know I've been unwrapping homemade cards and gifts for over a decade, and many times they come to me on ordinary days.

They find their way to my pillow or the top of my desk, when I'm not looking, and they tell me that my children see me. Good enough, even great.

If you're a mama or mama-to-be, who is quietly wondering if you're worthy of a day of celebration, let me remind you that you are. If you're doing your best to be good enough, then you are great—especially in the eyes of the only ones who matter.

I've come so far from my earliest days, and I've learned to embrace my failings, because it makes me a better parent. And instead of worrying whether my children love me enough, I show them that I love myself—and I do because of them.

*************

Happy Mother's Day to all of you.

Today and every day.

*************

{If you are struggling with feelings of sadness, and think you need help, go and find it. You are worth it.}