Early Morning Mama

Last night, Grif woke up at 4 a.m., whimpering, not really crying, but in some sort of (mild) distress. He hasn't been feeling too well lately, so coming fully awake from a deep, dreamy (Tylenol-nighttime-cold-induced) sleep was immediate and easy. A little water, some quick cuddling and a pacifier later, I came back to my own bed. Ready once again for sleep. Both of us. But the whole 15-minute experience got me thinking...

About mothers. And the fact that I am, in fact, one myself. Ahh, Motherhood. How it has changed absolutely every detail every emotion every goal every feeling every dream every daily action in my life. My dreams for the future no longer (solely) include finishing the book I've been working on (dreaming about) for years. Now my "dreaming" energy is focused much more (daily) on finding a job that will let me work a shorter work week -- so I can have an extra day (or two!) with Grif and my hubby pilot. My budget no longer includes a car payment, instead I have a daycare payment. My living room is no longer the home of my reading sanctuary -- now it shares equal space with Grif's main play area and toy storage. In order to workout, I no longer have to just sacrifice leisure time, now I often have to miss a few Grif hours (hardest when I come home from work first to squeeze in a half-hour before going back out -- a mistake I'm loathe to repeat since the boy breaks my heart every time with his immediate tears and wailing when I leave again). My weekends are no longer marked by the luxury of sleeping in, but blessed by the quiet of three-hour afternoon naps. My whole view of my life, being present in it -- in words and action -- means now being present and central and aware for this amazing small child of mine as well.

Most importantly, my life encompasses more than just the pilot and me together. Now, we are three. Three we are -- a family. And the wonder of this -- amazement, thankfulness, sometimes still sheer disbelief -- strikes me speechless every day. I'm no longer just a daughter, sister and wife. But a mother. Of a bright, beautiful, glorious child. Who loves running outside. And who's already eaten dirt out of one of my plants. Who spins in circles while dancing (usually clockwise). Who looks at me with his big blue eyes and smiles right at me. A small boy who runs to me -- his mama -- when I open the door at daycare and peek around the corner. Who is most amazing to watch when Jim sits him on his lap at the drum set -- how Grif plays, sticks flying. My own little child who can summon me from the depths of sleep to comfort him, his warm body cradled with mine and his head resting on my shoulder. Whose laughter is simply the most joyous thing I've ever heard (and Jim is the best at getting Grif to really laugh -- laugh to tears -- my favorite thing to watch).

I found a new blog this week -- another boho mama type -- but I read a post of hers on motherhood, and fell in love with her writing and her voice immediately:

To be a mother means to kneel a hundred times a day; to kiss a damp and tousled head after a nap, or to rub away some sticky mark upon an upturned cheek (and to wonder, was that oatmeal, or something worse?). It means pressing my knees into the floor, so I can look into the wide eyes of a small person who knows how to press all of my buttons and also how to unlock inexplicable emotions in heart...

Her words have stayed with me all week. And apparently, though the night as well....it was these words that kept me half awake last night (this morning). Waiting to hear if the boy was returning to sleep. Waiting to return there myself. And dreaming/smiling/reveling in motherhood.