I don’t know why I am hiding again. I thought I had turned a corner but nope. I have reverted to what I know best.
A Wrinkle in Time cracked my chest open. I wouldn’t say the movie was amazing in and of itself, but the feeling it evoked in me. I can’t explain it.
I felt choked up for most of the movie.
Even though my children were wiggly and moving around and likely distracting everyone else in the theater.
Even though my 4 year old sat on me for over half of it.
[clickToTweet tweet=”I feel this constant tug. This tension between wanting to soak up every moment of my children’s childhood and then the reality of just how tedious childhood really is. #parenting #momlife #sahm” quote=”I feel this constant tug. This tension between wanting to soak up every moment of my children’s childhood and then the reality of just how tedious childhood really is.” theme=”style1″]
And after the movie? We were supposed to go eat dinner with my mother (who watched it with us).
I fled instead.
I used Hapa Papa and Sasquatch (17mo) waiting at home as an excuse to rush back. But she could take out the older three if she wanted. (Of course THEY wanted.)
I felt achy all evening. Achy in that unshed tears kind of way. Achy in that yearning for something more kind of way.
More.
I wanted more.
These last few weeks, Cookie Monster (8) has been wanting hugs and cuddles with me. He stayed up late a few nights in order to catch me after I got home from working late. Or one time, he had asked me to spoon him in bed and I kept putting it off, but then, when I finally lay down with him, he sighed, “I’ve been waiting for this all day.”
One of the nights, he started to cry and I held him for a long time and asked him what was wrong, was he hurt? Did something happen in class? Was someone mean to him? Did he argue with Papa? Did he argue with his siblings?
He didn’t know. Or he couldn’t articulate it.
I think he missed me.
Glow Worm (4) has been slipping into bed with me in the morning so that we can cuddle and hug and cozy. He is so cute and sweet and cozy.
Gamera (6) has been extra emotional lately and cries even more than usual. I have been trying to be understanding and kind and safe.
I don’t know what’s going on.
Ok. I think I do.
My children are longing to connect with me. Though I spend 95% of their waking hours with them, I am usually on my phone, on my laptop, telling them what to do, or what to eat, or driving them around, or waiting. Always waiting for bedtime so my life can really begin.
This makes me sad.
And yet, I do not want to put my phone down.
I do not want to be present. Because the day is so long. SO LONG. But it is also SO FAST.
It goes by so quickly.
Sasquatch is already 17 months. He lets himself out of my room after his nap and magically shows up downstairs. (I find this hilarious every afternoon.) He orders me around all day. He can do SO many things. Things that I am, quite frankly, alarmed that he can do.
He is my last baby.
And his babyness is fast disappearing.
I both mourn this inevitability as I eagerly anticipate renewed freedom.
I feel this constant tug. This tension between wanting to soak up every moment of my children’s childhood and then the reality of just how tedious childhood really is.
Is it really that magical? To constantly preparing meals (why do they need to eat at least 3x a day plus snacks?), to going about the minutiae of life? Is that the stuff of magic?
But I sense myself barricading my heart. I sense myself longing to escape this intimacy. Their need for me. Their love for me. Their yearning for closeness.
Do I really want to be more?
Or do I just revert back to a mother figure? In their lives but not really IN their lives?
Is it so bad? To tell them stories? And tell jokes and play games and chat with them? Are all their memories of me to be nagging them and caring for their physical needs and lecturing them on how to be a person but not being there for their hearts?
[clickToTweet tweet=”Though I spend 95% of their waking hours with my kids, I’m usually on my phone or laptop, telling them what to do, what to eat, driving them around, or waiting. Always waiting for bedtime so my life can really begin. #parenting #sahm” quote=”Though I spend 95% of their waking hours with them, I am usually on my phone, on my laptop, telling them what to do, or what to eat, or driving them around, or waiting. Always waiting for bedtime so my life can really begin.” theme=”style1″]
I do not know how to be engaged as a parent with small humans.
I do not know what that is like. To be non-roommates. To be intimate.
I never had this family model.
But that seems like an excuse.
My husband never had that model either. Yet he spends this quality time with the children. Oh, he spends a fair share of that time on his laptop laying back on the couch. But he plays with them, tells them stories, plays games, takes them to parks, etc. He is engaged more than he is disengaged.
Do I have it in me to try?
