I knew that winter break was going to kick my butt because guess what – even though all the kids are now over the age of 10, it doesn’t really seem to matter. They are every bit as time consuming as they ever were. They’ve just replaced play dates with “Mom, can you drive us to the store?” dates.
18, 16, 14 and 11.
I’m terribly outnumbered.
I should have seen this coming…..
I remember waking up one fine, winter morning, during Christmas break, when I was in the 9th grade. I remember walking into the living room. It was nice and quiet in the house (I had 3 other siblings all close in age.) I remember thinking, “Oh, Mom’s on the couch. I’ll go snuggle up next to her.”
As I walked into the living room, my Mom looked up from her book, where she was sitting – quietly – reading. She raised her eyebrows, sighed loudly and said, “Sissy, what do you need….at 6 in the morning??”
My spirit crushed, I said, “Just saying good morning.” And I turned a 180 and went back to my room. I don’t remember what I did after – I just know that for a long time I didn’t want to leave my bedroom in the mornings when I woke up before everyone.
Fast forward ~25 yrs. I’m 39. I’m sitting in my dark, quiet, cozy kitchen trying to write an announcement for ServerPress, which I’ve been working on (sadly) for a few
days weeks. It’s 645am. It’s perfect writing time. The kids should be asleep because they don’t have school this week. They’re teenagers. They’re going to sleep in late.
No sooner do I get settled into the chair with a fresh cup of coffee, and crack open the laptop, do I hear a bedroom door open. And as a child approaches (who shall remain unnamed) I say, in my most annoyed-mom-voice, “Honey….what do you neeeeeed????” S/he says, “Nothing, just saying good morning.”
I totally get what happened in 9th grade that I’ve remembered all these years. I’m not sorry I wanted to snuggle with you but I am sorry that you never had nearly enough downtime when we were all growing up. You worked so hard to provide for us. I wish we had won the lottery or something so you could have just been at home, sewing, baking, gardening, writing, and playing with us. But we didn’t. And in spite of building your career with a house full of teenagers, you still found time to sew, bake, garden, write, and play with us. You were an awesome mom. I hope you enjoy all the quiet-times-on-the-couch-with-a-book-mornings you can these days. You certainly earned them.
I love you so much. You are the most awesome parent. I can’t believe you still put up with all your kids after all these years of us driving you nuts.
Perspective is a beautiful thing, a gift, wrapped in wisdom and grace.