10 September, 2014


When you're a mom, at home, with little kids, time passes unnoticed. You are so focused on the here and now, the crayon-up-the-nose, the adorable laugh, the poke-in-the-eye, the mysterious liquid that your toddler is drinking, the conversations about nothing and everything. You are there, because you have to be. And of course you want to be. It's wonderful.

But then when something big happens, like, say, your oldest starts kindergarten, you become aware of the passage of time. And it hurts! How did two days become five years, so suddenly? How did this infant that needed you for everything suddenly know how to put on his backpack and zip up his jacket and kiss his sister goodbye?

You watch his vulnerable little shoulders under the weight of his R2D2 backpack and you think, "How?! He was just a baby. Just yesterday."

When you glance at the clock and you realize that right now he's probably sitting down eating lunch and you get all panicky, "Does he have friends to talk to while he eats? Does he miss me?" and you realize that life truly is the fine art of holding on and letting go.

The bitterest sweet of my life has been watching my children grow up.

I miss him, I do. But the truth is, the days go on. I play "riding the bus" with KJ and then I feed Will for the millionth time. I put them down for naps and pay bills and run a brush through my hair and then I look at the clock and oh! is that the bus I hear? And soon it's bedtime and I'm helping little legs into pajama pants and confiscating the toothpaste from Kjel, who thinks it's candy.

And then tomorrow begins again and I have to swallow back that sob that I haven't let escape yet, because in truth, I don't think it's going anywhere. Not for a long time.

When you're a mom, at home, with little kids, time passes unnoticed.

When you're a mom, you can't help but feel a little betrayed by the hands of the clock. They move forward even when you're not quite ready to. Will I ever be ready to?

06 August, 2014

Fresh Flowers on the Table

"I changed my mind about flowers today."


"Remember when we were dating and I told you I didn't like receiving flowers unless they were handpicked from a mountain meadow or something like that?"


"Well, I decided I do like them. So if you are out and about sometime and want to buy me a present, then just know that flowers might be a good idea."

04 August, 2014

Washing Windows

Today I washed our windows.

To be honest, this is one of those tasks that I always save for "later". After all, they get dirty again within minutes. Little noses and fingers press against them several times a day, sometimes several times an hour. But when I've procrastinated long enough, I finally get around to it.

KJ recently started coloring on everything. Poor girl just can't resist the temptation of a clean surface. I hadn't realized how much she enjoyed coloring on the windows until I was right there, inches away, furiously scrubbing at the marks. She'd chosen light yellows and peaches for the windows, as if she'd been thinking, "So, Mom. The thing is, I'm going to color on the windows, but I'll make it easy on everyone by using light colors so it's barely noticeable."

While I was scrubbing away the last mark, I started thinking about why we do things like clean windows. Make beds. Wash dishes. They are going to get dirty again. Beds will get slept in. Every night, if we're lucky.

Household chores are like parenthood, aren't they? We do the same things, over and over again, knowing that our efforts will often appear like a complete waste of time.

The thing is, someday Kjel's temptations will be so much more serious than "do I color on this wall or not?" She and Gage and Will and every other child out there will have to choose between kindness and apathy, between courage and cowardice. They'll have to choose between standing alone and compromising their standards. They'll have to choose between loving fully and judging self-righteously.

So holding her hands on my face, and repeating the same phrase, "We don't hit. We love."every day, all day, might seem like something utterly ridiculous. Talking with Gage for half an hour about why we don't say "stupid" might seem, well, stupid. He's going to say it. Kjel is going to hit. It's inevitable. But I believe that the harder and longer I love and the more I try, the easier it will be for them to resist temptation, to seek truth, and to find joy.

Some people believe that the purpose behind all of this - families, homes, children, laundry, etc., is to keep the human species surviving and thriving. Some people think that when we die, we are gone forever. Some people think that all we leave behind is our bloodline.

And while that's important, absolutely, I believe that we are more. I believe that we lived before we came here to earth, and that when we die, it isn't the end.

What I'm trying to say, is that the purpose behind washing windows and wiping noses and reading books way past bedtime is to enjoy our children. It's to teach them joy and that joy isn't some fleeting, distant feeling. Joy is here, it's now. Joy is attainable, peace is attainable. It's within arms reach and only a kiss and a lullaby away, if we choose to accept it.

Once when we lived in Ukraine, I helped a little old Babushka down some icy stairs and I wondered how karma would reward me. But the thought came to me, "Helping her was the reward. You were given the opportunity to help another human. That was your reward."

Someday, I'd love to see my children successful, educated, confidant, true, and in their own happy families. And it's tempting to think that all this window washing, etc., is in preparation for that big reward. The day when it all pays off and I can pat myself on the back for making beds like a champ. But I don't want to wait that long to feel the joy that comes from a job well done. Does that make sense? The reward is in the moment.

As a parent, holding hands is the reward.

Making dinner is the reward.

Unwrapping a band-aid is the reward.

Washing windows is the reward.

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