I love being Mommy to my girls who are at three very different stages in life:

Now that Kimmie has her license and her own car, there is no more leaving early to get her to school on time, picking her up from school, taking her to work, picking her up from work, taking her to her friends' houses, picking her up from her friends' houses, dropping her off at the store, picking her up from the store...

My life has become quieter. While I still wonder how Kimmie is doing: is she safe? is she making wise decisions? God is teaching me to let go. Kimmie comes and goes as she pleases without disturbing anyone. She calls or emails to let me know her plans, and she is becoming increasingly independent. She even called me the other day, just to talk. "I miss you," she said. "It feels strange to start my day without talking to you." I remember a time when Jeremy and I had to walk her through her chores and ask repeatedly what her plans were or how her day went. I remember shaking my head and fearing what her future may be like if she planned to use the logic currently in her head. But now that she has more freedom, she comes in when she wants, takes care of the supper dishes without being told, and initiates letting me know where she plans to be and when. It's shocking. It's wonderful. How did she become so responsible? After watching this transition, my spirit has become quieter and more at rest. She will survive. She may even thrive! I am proud. I feel like a first-time gardener who planted seeds, and watered them, and protected them from the wind and the bunny rabbits and the birds, and sat and wondered. Trepidation. Will the seeds sprout? If they sprout, will they live? If they live, will they become strong? If they become strong, will they bear fruit?

The seeds are growing!

With Kimmie chauffering herself, I am able to slow down to enjoy my home-time more. I have two other little girls who have from necessity been carted here and there in the middle of their naps, in the middle of their meals, a few hours after they've been put in bed for the night...but now the interruptions are gone. A routine is slowly being established, and I am able to focus more fully on them.

They are fun!

This is a transition phase for me that I am reveling in, and I had no idea that it would arrive. The quiet, the playfulness, the peace. Even when they are both crying at once, the feeling is lighter, and I don't mind it.

Yesterday, Mercy had a nine month well-baby check up. While we sat in the examining room waiting for the doctor, Mercy pulled herself to a standing position on my lap and looked me squarely in the eyes. She scrunched up her nose and blew air at me. Then she touched her forehead to mine and held the contact for several seconds. My arms immediately wrapped around her little back and savored the feeling. My baby. She twisted her head and grinned at me, then she watched in concentration as I clicked my tongue inside my mouth. The intense gaze on my mouth memorized the movements for future tongue-clicking of her own.

We laughed together; we played together. We savored every touch and smile...well, I did, at least. I enjoy seeing the intelligence in my baby's eyes. Mercy communicates without being able to speak. I remember marveling about that ability in Liberty, too. At that moment, Mercy was communicating her enjoyment of our peaceful, light-heartedness. It was in her eyes.

I recognized it, and tried to communicate it back to her. "I love spending time with you, my baby Mercy," I said gently. I smiled into her eyes. I brushed my fingertips on her fat baby cheek. I circled her in my arms for one more hug before the doctor came in.

Later that evening while Jeremy, Kimmie and Charity watched a movie downstairs and Mercy slept, Liberty and I lay on the living room floor and colored a picture together. Liberty talked on and on, telling great stories. I was able to pick out most of the words. her imagination seems boundless. At one point, in the middle of a great story, Liberty suddenly stopped, set her crayon down, put her hand on my cheek and smiled into my eyes. "My Mommy," she said tenderly. She smiled again, then went back to her coloring. A little later, coloring forgotten, she grabbed my hand and encouraged, "Come on, Mommy." We ran into my bedroom to escape the "mustards" (monsters) and hid under the blankets. "Better hide! He's coming, Mommy. He's coming!" Then I felt little arms go around my neck, and she whispered into my ear, "No worry. I here, Mommy."

And really, surrounded by all this love, how can I worry? Those mustards better not mess with me.
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1 Response
  1. Debbie Awful =) Says:

    What a beautiful post!!!

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