Category Archives: motherhood

July 28, 2014 · 12:42 pm

I Missed It

He scored a goal at his hockey game. It was only the second goal he’d ever scored in a game, and it was epic.

He’s shy with the puck, and we’d been waiting eagerly for him to score again, feel the thrill, and trust his ability. He finally did it, and it was awesome.

It was the kind of goal that had everyone in the stands – even the parents of the kids on the opposing team – on their feet cheering. The kind that in a movie would’ve happened in slow motion. The kind that propelled the head coach to say, “Now that was the goal of the game.”

So I heard.

You see, I didn’t go to the game, so I missed it.

I MISSED IT.

I can tell that it shifted something inside him. It planted a seed of self-confidence that will blossom soon enough. The sparkle in his eyes is already brighter than it was before. It revealed to him a slice of his true self and the limitlessness of what he’s capable of achieving. When I asked him how he felt when it happened, his answer came fast. “Nervous.”  He might not be aware, but he’ll carry this goal – and it will carry him – throughout his life.

It doesn’t really matter that I didn’t see it – its magic will unfold regardless – but I sure wish I had.

Have you ever missed a big moment?

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July 15, 2014 · 10:50 am

Counting Fingers

I’ve read a lot of essays about the loneliness of motherhood. Hell, I’ve written about it myself! When I first became a mother, I had very few friends with kids. My husband worked (and still works) long hours, and my pre-kid life-long friends lived (and still live) far away. All these years later, I’ve made many great connections and have started new and cherished friendships, but the truth remains that the daily act of mothering, particularly as stay-at-home-mom, is often a lonely and isolating experience.

Now that my kids are seven and five years old, I feel something shifting. Whereas I once did absolutely anything to escape my kids, I now find myself asking, “Who wants to come with me to the grocery store?” A few weeks ago, Mike and I took the kids bowling on a Saturday night, and, believe it or not, we had fun. A few months back, we took the kids to Disney World for a weekend. For 36 hours straight, we spent every waking and sleeping hour together, and when we returned home, I was sad that we couldn’t stay longer.

Recently, in the bathroom at a local frozen yogurt shop, Dylan and I laughed until our stomachs hurt after Riley scared the crap out of us (pun intended) with a startlingly loud and explosive fart.  Just a few days ago, we all giggled when Riley let Gertie give him “mouth kisses” over and over again and Dylan announced, “Riley and Gertie are married!”

More and more, I want to be with my kids. I don’t crave a Saturday night babysitter as much as I once did, and if I do, it’s because I want time to connect with my husband as opposed to time away from the kids. Each weekday, I appreciate my alone time, but I also can’t wait to get the boys in the car at the end of the day and hear all about their adventures at camp.

It’s not that I haven’t enjoyed raising them until now or that this parenting gig has gotten any easier. Hardly!  Rather, it’s that my little boys are developing into charming, funny, curious, and smart little people, and I truly enjoy their company. (That, and they finally wipe their own butts.) I’m not so much surprised by this new feeling as much as I’m totally and completely delighted.

I’ve never been the kind of person to have a gaggle of girlfriends. I’m more the type to count my dearest ones – near and far – on the fingers of one hand. Now, it looks like I need to start counting the fingers on my other hand, too.

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