it's okay

With my parents, my three brothers and two sisters-in-law when we surprised my dad by visiting for Father's Day

Jesse made this, taking a quote from a favorite Switchfoot song

The girls and I made summer book recommendations for each other and Rosie's list got rather long!  I'm not sure how many she's read but I think it gave her confidence to start reading longer chapter books! 

 Saying the Junior National Park Ranger Oath at Mt. Rainier NP

My babies are getting bigger now.  My baby girl is starting first grade soon and my other two girls are in third and fourth grades.  I never would have imagined my motherhood road passing by so quickly, especially since I always pictured myself with a longer journey through each stage and maybe with more children and maybe a little more spaced apart.  But with my three girls all born within 3 1/2 years of each other, I storm through a stage and launch into the next with the dust swirling around my feet and blurring my vision.  I basically blinked and was done with toddlerdom (honestly, not sure I am sad about that one going by quick).  The preschool years that I adore slipped away and now I have all these elementary aged girls and am starting to peek ahead a little toward the next stages with joy and -let's face it - trembling.  I have (mostly) loved each stage for what it is but they disappear so quickly and I'm left a little breathless and wishing for a little more time with at least one of them.  Every motherhood road is different with its own challenges and joys, but wouldn't we all be lying if we said we didn't sometimes envy the grass on the other side that seems just a little more lush than our (weedy, overgrown, toy-strewn) yard?  

I was told last year by a trusted counselor that it's okay for me to grieve the passing of a season, especially as my youngest whirls through it.  Until we had that conversation, I didn't realize that I was harboring this dragon of guilt that flew around and exhaled fire in so many directions.  Every milestone or birthday for my youngest daughter was riddled with guilt - the guilt I felt over grieving something as GOOD as her growing and changing, guilt that I was -still- sometimes grieving the fact that I wanted more children but that doesn't seem to be the direction our family is going to head; and guilt that I was even feeling guilt since I know there are many women who would give their right eye to experience that milestone with their own child. There's a nugget of truth in so many of those thoughts I was having and that guilt was burning all these little fires that I couldn't figure out how to put out each time I saw and noticed a new development ("this might be the last time I'll ever give one of my children a bath!"), every new stage ("someday they might not even want to hold my hand!"), every new birthday ("this is the last sixth birthday I'll ever throw as a mother"), even day to day when I saw her outside playing alone with her doll ("this is passing and she won't do this someday!").  

And I wasn't done with guilt.  I had an unconscious fear: what if my older two saw my grief attached to their little sister and construed it as more love for her than for them?  The flames were licking closer and I was sweating and cranky and trying too hard. 

Then the counselor's words that were the stream of water to me.  It's okay to feel grief at the passing of a season.  OKAY.  Not bad. Not terrible.  Neutral.

Whew.  That sure gave some breathing room to feel and think without judgment.  Removing judgment allows me to do my best and be free to be a restful mom even as the days and stages and Christmases and birthdays fly by.  I can relinquish the control I was attempting to exert over these feelings that I had labeled BAD and remember that the grief I feel that coincides with the milestones of my youngest daughter is really connected to all my daughters growing up.  

To help me be able to this, I have a little notepad in the bathroom.  Yeah, by the toilet.  And a pen.  And when I go to the bathroom, instead of opening up an app and hiding in there scrolling for 10 minutes in the quiet, I grab the pen and jot down a few things I am thankful for.  Usually just four at a time and sometimes I have to think hard to remember what the blessings are in my life when money is tight, or the car has broken down, or bickering has taken over my life, but those four things are a lifeline until the next time I have to visit the water closet where I can hide in the quiet and meditate.  So here's a few from this week:

*Beautiful wood floors revealed when Jesse pulled up the linoleum in the kitchen!

*All three girls cast in the Nutcracker!

*Finished knit scarf

*Evening sunset walk with friends

*Rosie, first thing this morning: "I just love snuggling with you."

I am thankful, and that thanksgiving helps combat the guilt and move through the mother-grief and perfectionism that still dogs me.  You know, I still have to fight it and sometimes I fight better than other times.  The thanksgivings help peace to wash over me, like I'm coming up for air and can dive back into the fray again for a little while again and try to enjoy the mad pace of time as it passes.