Yes, I’m posting at 3:00 AM. I totally started laughing when I had to crawl across a light saber to reach a tissue. I thought “I wouldn’t trade this for anything.”
All too soon this stage will be gone: this stage of five-year-olds and light sabers, unwanted litters of kittens that inflame my allergies, getting up at odd hours with a child who has bed wetting problems and no end in sight.
-Lyme disease in my baby from tics likely acquired by choosing to live in my dream place of a forest;
-orthodontist appointments that I spend two hours at while we do a carpooling dance with two older children, their jobs and a car in the shop;
-wishing I could be there to honor my Isaak at his grave on Memorial Day—or any day— and loving my family for doing it for me;
-torturing my living children with gardening just enough to feel plagued by the garden but not enough to actually yield much fruit ๐;
-“forced family fun” (or F-cubed as Quinn so cleverly put it) where my kids have to play games with me off my choosing…mwa ha ha ha ๐.
After thirteen children and 29+ years of almost constant motherhood, a few things have made it easier to enjoy these moments—or at least laugh at them— in my “advanced geriatric maternal years” as my last OB/GYN so “ lovingly” labeled them:
-the gentle reminders i’ve heard for years from women further along my path to “enjoy the moments”;
-the sadness and loss in my mother heart at seeing my babies grow older and leave the nest blended with the joy in seeing the humans that they become;
-saying “no” to so many “essentials”…laundry being done, organized sports, video games, manicured yard, dinner on time or even something besides leftovers ๐, being the final word in my children’s lives as they grow older…although I will argue that Eli at 10 needs me still far more than he will acknowledge, and Xai at 13 definitely benefits from a little hygiene and fashion advice (conversation literally last night—“at least one color from your shirt and one color from your pants should match”);
-letting go of the expectations that (1) cooking dinner and wiping their cute little bums will ever make my children love me; (2) even if I’m logical, the aforementioned tiny humans won’t acknowledge it, despite being recently trained in recognizing fallacies; (3) I should be good at being patient and calm “after all these years.”;
-increased awareness of my existence as a human, as a woman, outside of my role of a mother – – allowing myself to slip out of the worn out role of exhausted mother servant to assume my rightful place as an intentional human being with needs that deserve filling and replenishing… and not only so I have more to give, but because my worth is not only because of what I give but in who I am.
Yeah…no regrets.
Well maybe a couple:
-being horribly domineering to a friend and forever damaging a relationship;
-thinking transporting lattices on top of the car wouldn’t scratch it…. Sorry, Quinn ๐.




















