Chaos. Happy, delirious chaos.
Tim ran upstairs because, even at 10 p.m., two four-year-old girls—who did not nap yesterday—were still awake. Giggling. Talking. Playing. Jackson had long earlier fallen asleep on Esther-Faith’s bed. But the girls, they were still awake—sharing the vacation bed—and making all kinds of indications that they might be awake all night.
I heard Tim laughing with them and shooshing them as I headed to the basement to ride the exercise bike. A few minutes later, he came down and informed me that the girls were just SURE that Kiki would come up and sleep between them. That all three of us would share the vacation bed. That we would giggle, talk, and play until we couldn’t keep our eyes open any longer.
I absolutely adore my niece and nephew. And I’m pretty certain they feel the same about me. And I really enjoy having them overnight. There is an elevated level of noise, dirt, and mess. But there is also an elevated level of fun and love.
As I sneaked into Esther-Faith’s room after my ride to find them all asleep, I couldn’t help but wonder what I’d done to deserve their love. And when I peaked in on my almost-ten-year-old son, I couldn’t help but wonder what the next couple of years will bring for him. And then, Isaiah. What a tough road he’s been walking lately. Sometimes, not so well. But I hope that in the end he knows how absolutely I love him.
And I wonder, all moms must feel this way. All moms must have this inner giant that lies dormant until someone messes with her kids. All moms must heave a deep sigh when the kids have fallen asleep wishing they had five more minutes with the kids awake. All moms must feel utterly grateful for the gift of their children.
The other day Tim tossed a small white box at me and said, “Happy Mother’s Day.” It was somewhat insincere and really impersonal. I turned the box over in my hand to discover that he had given me an airport express. A wireless network. It was the most interesting “gift” I had ever seen, and my first thought was to tell him that I would be sure to get some kind of cast iron pan for him for Fathers’ Day.
And then I remembered, I did. Last year. A nacho grill pan.
But still, wireless networks are not Tim’s Mothers’ Day M.O. Usually, he convinces the kids to make handprints in cement or takes them to Sears for a piece of jewelry. And I think he knew I was a little confused.
He started his explanation. Using words like disc array, network attached storage solution, media migration, 8-year DVR security storage, whole-house wireless access, gigabit ethernet in each room, DLNA plus internet, and a whole lot more that I really tried to listen to.
Instead of fully paying attention to his “Mother’s Day gift explanation,” I realized how little this one day of the year means to me. Sure its nice to have the kids try to make pumpkin bars. And eat them no matter what they taste like. And I do like the occasional hyacinth or piece of bling.
What I love more is being their mom. I love that my daughter thinks that I make the best friend in the world. I love that I can always make the teenager laugh even when he’s trying really hard to be mad at me. I love that my almost-ten-year-old still loves to snuggle, and when he flashes that smile of his, I completely melt.
I even love that they seem to wear out their shoes once a month. Grow three inches overnight. Negotiate like litigators. Create a mess wherever they go—without meaning to. Like doing some chores and avoid others like the plague. Enjoy being in the kitchen with me—especially when I’m making waffles. Want to be like their dad. Plant mystery seeds for me at school.
I love it when they laugh. My heart aches when they cry. I love it when they play. I am frustrated when they argue. I love it when they dress alike. I try to teach them to color coordinate their outfits. I love it when they are in my way in the kitchen. I can’t stand it when I have to hurry them along in the morning. I love it when they feel successful. And feel their agitation when they don’t get what they want.
Wireless network or ruby ring, I don’t care. My best gifts are already asleep. No doubt with big plans to make Mothers’ Day special for me. No doubt wondering about other mothers or tea parties. No doubt growing three more inches overnight.