There is a fine line between confidence and stagnation. In one we think, ok this one I know how to to do. I’ve got this one. Bring it. In the other it’s more of a looking up and then looking back down to the knitting in your lap. While I do acknowledge that life is capable of having a merry go round feel, I tend to feel comforted by the same view passing by again and again. Much like on a merry go round, if you were to pick apart what you see bit by bit, you’d notice that subtle differences change perspective.
Here I am sitting at the breakfast nook. My cup of coffee. My French press. The same girl child sits across from me. Drinking her tea. Eating her breakfast. It’s Friday again. I’m gathering my morning into a heap to get myself to work. I’ve been here before a bazillion times. She feeds herself now. She still likes to come down to a breakfast made. I still enjoy making it for her. Her face has lost the baby roundness. She is a delectable combination of stubby hubs hunk and me. Honestly, the one constant is that I could eat her alive.
I have been chewing on my kids since the day they were born.
Before I leave for work, I go up and touch the bug’s door. He’s a light sleeper and stampeding toward adolescence so I don’t dare go in. I just give the door a tap as if brushing the hair from his eyes. This man child of mine. His looks have yet to settle. I have a window into the man he will look like but his plump cheeks still closely resemble the sweet cherub that hung from me like a primate.
Gone are the days of childcare. Bath time. Story time. Play dates. I still tuck these kids in every night. I have heard many a parent say, “I love this age.” I have to say I have loved them all. When I was getting no sleep they were ever ready to crawl up into my lap. When they were toddling there assertion of independence amused me.
Being a mom has many seasons. Like my garden I have loved them all.