Leaving

My teenage son is leaving for Brazil on an exchange in a few months. This weekend he's gone on a preparatory retreat locally for a few days. A few hours before he left, we had a blow-up. He was trying to finish a movie that was required watching for the retreat (this was assigned months in advance, of course). He was watching it in the family room and his 4 year old twin brothers were in the room. The movie shifted to a scene that was inappropriate for his brothers, so I asked him to finish in his room. 

He refused.

I asked nicely again.

He refused again.

I stated that this was not a choice.

He heatedly refused.

I removed the movie and stood by my request.

He exploded.

I try to remain calm and explain his options while he follows me screaming about my evil, unreasonable ways. 

This goes on for 30 minutes. He push, push, pushes while I try to calmly stand my ground without losing my temper or showing that I'm really not so sure all this is worth it and maybe I should have kept my mouth shut and let him just finish the movie in the family room and asked the younger boys to leave the room even though he has the nicest room in the house and could easily move.

He begins to call me names an tell me how rotten I am. I see the shock on the faces of my little ones and I do the wrong thing:

 I lose it, too.

I tell my oldest baby that this is the exact behavior that I will not miss when he leaves us for 10 months. I say that maybe it is time for him to go. It is one of those times where the words come out of your mouth and, even as you are saying them, you know a good mother should never say such things.

I do it anyway. I cannot stop myself.

All of the fear about this exchange comes tumbling out of both of us. In a few months, my baby will get on a plane and travel to a foreign country where he does not know a soul and does not speak the language. He will leave the comfort of his home, his family and friends and live in a house with complete strangers for close to a year.

Right there in front of me is the little boy he used to be. He, too, was once 4 years old and his only concern was what imaginary game to play next. When he bumped his knee, I was the one he ran to for comfort. He crawled on my lap when he was sleepy or scared. He sang his A-B-C's while we cheered him on and hid our smiles as he said the k twice. He was the baby that curled his body into mine as he nursed while we both drifted off into a blissful sleep. He was once an adorable little boy that loved his mama like no one else.

That same boy is now taller than me with high cheekbones and whiskers and big muscles.  That same boy now needs to find his own life.  To do that he has to release parts of his old life. To find out who he is, he has to push Mama out of the picture a bit. This is not a conscious push, it's done gradually over time throughout the teenage years with occasional, unexpected, heated explosions. 

At least, that's what I think is happening. This process of growth can be so painful at times, I look at all of my younger children and think, what the *bleep* did I do?! How am I going to survive this four more times?. It never, ever occurred to me that my little baby that I just wanted to inhale would someday turn into a man that I would actually, genuinely, dislike at times.  I never stopped to think that I was churning out a bunch of creatures that would eat all my food, complain about it not being any good, leave their dishes on the table and then roll their eyes at me when asked to pick up their possessions (that I paid for!).

The teenage years are not a constant stream of pain. They have peaks and valley's. They ebb and flow. There has to be some bright spots in there or our species would not survive. If it were all constant pain, we, as a species, would eventually figure out that these cute, sweet smelling babies eventually turn into large, foul smelling, shrieking monsters and we would just choose not to go through with this whole child raising nonsense. 

The larger versions of these sweet babies, however, can do some pretty amazing things when they are not in the unconscious "I need to find out who I am so I'm going to be cruel to my mother" stage. They can be incredibly smart, strong, funny, creative and kind (to others, that is) and that in turn can make us very proud. When we are on the peak, celebrating with our dazzling star of a child, we have to store some of that light away for the next time we visit the dark, dry, harsh valley. In the end, hopefully it will all balance out into a nice, calm, lovely straight line.

So, for now I guess I'll just try to do my best and love my teenager no matter what. I will try to explain to him that when it sounds like I want him to leave, what I am really saying is that I just want him to love me like that little four year old boy did.

Forever.

Toddlers and Teens

I have been given a tremendous gift. A gift that few people have the privilege of experiencing.

I am parenting teens and toddlers at the same time.

When people hear this, their reaction is usually not a positive one; both age groups tend to have a bad reputation.  Remarkably, experiencing the two simultaneously helps cancel a lot of the negative stuff out.

Let me explain...
  

When my teens are being so awful that I am almost brought to tears, I can turn around and grab a loving toddler and get a whole lot of unconditional love. The contrast of having incredibly adorable people in the same house with incredibly not-adorable people allows me to appreciate the adorable ones that much more.

You see, now as I parent my toddlers, I know what is coming (and lots of time it ain't pretty) and it reminds me to soak up every bit of these little beings. Every. Single. Second.

When I became a mother for the first time I was 28 years old. When I had my twins I was 42. One thing about getting older: you really are so much wiser. Your priorities shift, and for the better. You tend not to sweat the small stuff as much because, to be honest, you really don't have the energy for that anymore. When my first child was born, it took me quite a while to adjust to my new role as a mother. I spend the first few months feeling a tad resentful that this little creature had stolen my life. I mean, what the hell?!

Eighteen years later, that original life is nothing but a fuzzy memory, so I don't feel like I am missing out on a single thing.

My toddlers (and twins, no less) add nothing but joy. A tantrum? Go ahead, give it your best go; I've seen it all before. Belligerent behavior? Go for it. What is the worst that can happen? When you are 3 years old, Mommy does not have to worry about you turning to drugs and alcohol when you don't get your way. That comes later and I am fully aware of the fact.

Let me be clear: I have fantastic teenagers. They are respectful, loving and kind. But then, in a blink, they are not. I know this is totally normal developmental behavior, but let me tell you, it really sucks (and fyi, I don't allow people to use the s-word in my home, but in this situation, no other word is more appropriate).

We as humans are built this way. Teens need to push away to develop their own identity. I get it, but it still feels like a kick to the gut, every time. And if you are bouncing a chubby, drooling baby on your knee as you read this and thinking, "not my darling...", I'm telling you, it will happen. It has to. That is the work of the teenager: to separate and create their own identity (and break their mothers heart while doing so.)

One day I'm conversing with my loving child and the next, a person I do not recognize physically or emotionally is screaming at me.

It happens to all of them and I know it will happen with my babies. This is why I drink every minute with them up and I am so grateful for the gift of them I could just about burst.

One more cool thing. That screaming teen I spoke of? He will turn into putty in the hands of the adorable toddler. Nothing will fill me up more than to see my 15 year old play with his little brothers. My teens love my toddlers with a ferocity. It helps them take themselves a little less seriously. It lets them play. Nothing else in their world gives them full license to act like a little kid again and to have some plain and simple fun.  Mixed in with that is the bonus of a dose of pure love.

It is a beautiful thing. It is a glorious, fabulous gift and I soak it up every time it happens because I know in a blink, my toddlers will be teens.

Loving the Belly

I love my body.

Ok, so maybe this is an affirmation. I am actually working on loving my body.

My issue is with my belly. It sticks out. It is gushier that I would like and it has been known to jiggle when I run. If I poke it, it pokes back.

Some days I am fine with all of this. Some days it feels like the end of the universe. 

My belly has worked hard for me, though. It has stretched to accommodate seven children (including a set of large twins); I should probably cut is some slack (pun intended...).

I realized today that I would really love to have the body that I had ten years ago back again. What about the body I had 20 years ago? Well, I'd give you my first born (disclaimer: he's 17 and a little testy at times...). My point is this: I had a great body 10 years ago, a great body 20 years ago and you know what?

I didn't appreciate it.

Just like I am not appreciating it now.

Ten years from now, will I be yearning for this strong, healthy body that has a bit of a jiggly belly?  Perhaps. Maybe I should spend a little time in the appreciation arena?

I might wish I had.

My belly carried all of these beautiful creatures, plus 1