motherhood

I've been reading a book the last week or so called Things I Want My Daughter to Know by Elizabeth Noble. It's a good book. Sad, but good.
And in it the mother writes letters to her daughters as she is dying (*I told you it was sad!) I have written letters to the boys periodically and I am thankful they will always have those to know my love by, if anything ever were to happen to me.

I love them so much, my heart aches when I stop to think about it. I never want them to wonder about my love. I want them to forever know that their mother wanted them, loved them and cherished them.
Every moment of every day.

I grew up knowing I would have children, at least three, but never in my wildest dreams were any of those children twins. They are the most amazing surprise in my life. One that continually astounds me.

Like tonight when Jack gathered up the binkies & bubs and gave Logan his. Or when I arrived home and saw two blond heads together, working on a puzzle. Or when, at the park on Monday, they played peek-a-boo with each other.

The farther I get in this parenting gig, the more I find myself channeling my mother. Whether I am making chocolate chip cookies, carrying a blond boy on my hip or riding in the passenger seat visiting with Josh, feet on the dashboard, passing goldfish and sippy cups back with my amazing extend-o arms that apparently come with motherhood, I can feel her come through me.

When I think about the fact that at my age, my mom had been without her mother for four years already, I feel so lucky to have her to turn to. When I was pregnant and scared; when Jack's pyogenic granuloma fell off; when Logan was up puking in the middle of the night... She has always been there.

In the book the mom talks about how she was raised in a quiet, unjoyful home. And it made her determined to raise her children in a bright, happy, joyful home. I don't know if my mom would say her childhood was dark, but I do know that our home growing up was bright, happy & full of wonderful memories that growing up should be made of.

Camping, zoo trips, swim lessons, baseball games in the spring, the swingset in the backyard and riding bikes with the neighbor kids.
These are the same things I want to fill Logan & Jack's childhood with.

When I find myself channeling my mom, as I often do, I wonder how women with less than adequate mothers do it. Mothering comes naturally to me. It's in my genes- I can feel it!

Part of my obsession lately with my mom is also that I feel she feels the best part of her life was when she was raising all of us. In turn, I feel that I have just started the best part of my life. The part where each day is filled with growing and learning and loving. Where each year is another milestone reached.

I feel so lucky to be watching my children grow. I feel so lucky to be parenting alongside my husband. And I feel so lucky to have access to my mom, resident motherhood expert.

Tonight I got to read them their bedtime stories. Something about sitting in that rocking chair with my two little boys in my lap is just... magic. They are magic. Their brains, growing and working. Their bodies, moving and learning. Their sweet hearts, loving and sharing. That room, their nursery, where they sleep safe and sound every night, is like a fairy tale.
It's my happily ever after.

It's where they ask me, in their little pixie voices, "Mama hug?" Where they want to be rocked and sing "You are my Sunshine" with me. Where they want to snuggle their bubbas, suck their binkies & be wrapped like babies in the crib quilts my mom (quite fittingly) sewed for them, full of Nanny-love.

Oh boys... my boys full of magic... who bring me such joy.
I love you.
I love you forever and ever and ever.
Thank you for the honor of being your mommy. For the dreams you have fulfilled in my heart. And for the bright future I have to look forward to with you at the center.
I can't wait.