Sometimes I get a lump in my throat when I’m feeling extraordinary lucky and thankful for the little slice of life that I’m living, and I try to savor every single thing about that moment. Today was one of those days – filled to the very brim with happiness, laughter and tons of smooches. From the moment I woke up, with Maggie whispering she loved me into my year, to now, alone and ready to do a bit of writing while everybody else sleeps, it has been a ‘I hope I don’t forget this’ type of day. Maggie told Audrey not to ‘dribble’ on her, we got some yard work done, Phil and Geneviève came to visit, and I even took a bath. (I also had my second and third cups of coffee ever in my life…)
I really needed an extraordinary day to follow up the few days of tantrums that we’ve had. I can safely say that we didn’t run into the Terrible Twos, but I think we might have a bit of the Tantrum Threes. (Honestly, after the major fit that Mags had on Wednesday, I was ready to call them the F’n Threes….is that how you even write that?) I can’t even bring myself to write about the tantrums in too much detail because they seem so incredibly ridiculous in retrospect. (I mean, how hard could it be to get dressed, go potty and put ONE sock on without hitting, peeing your pants or stomping your feet?) It is my hope that we’re figuring out a way to be consistent with Maggie so that when she does elevate to Code Red Tantrum, she’ll know exactly what to expect from us.
One of my very favorite techniques has just been, after she’s calmed down a tiny bit, to hug her and just hold her without any words until she’s ready to talk. If she talks and starts elevating again, I just start hugging her again….and Maggie, being the kid that loves physical tough, always melts into my arms. We’ve also been telling her how much we love her, even when she’s being a ‘bucket dipper’ and she seems to be surprised by that notion. Barry told her that when she’s angry and feeling upset, is when we love her the most, an idea she didn’t seem to buy, but I think it gave her some comfort. That said, tonight Kara sent a link to a very beautiful video with an essay by Katherine Center and it so moved me. You can check both out here, but I’m also adding the text to the essay so I can read it again and again.
WHAT I WOULD TELL HER: (If I knew what to say.)
You are a miracle.
And I have to love you this fiercely: So that you can feel it even after you leave for school, or even while you are asleep, or even after your childhood becomes a memory.
You’ll forget all this when you grow up. But it’s okay.
Being a mother means having your heart broken.
And it means loving and losing and falling apart and coming back together.
And it’s the best there is. And also, sometimes, the worst.
Sometimes you won’t have anyone to talk to.
Sometimes you’ll wonder if you’ve forgotten who you are.
But you must remember this: What you’re doing matters.
And you have to be brave with your life so that others can be brave with theirs.
The truth is, being a woman is a gift. Tenderness is a gift. Intimacy is a gift. And nurturing the good in this world is a nothing short of a privilege.
That’s why I have to love you this way. So I can give what I have to you. So that you can carry it in your body and pass it on.
I have watched you sleep. I’ve kissed you a million times. And I know something that you don’t, yet:
You are writing the story of your only life every single minute of every day.
And my greatest hope for you, sweet child, is that I can teach you how to write a good one.