Saturday, January 25, 2014

Mom Confusion

I just had the best moment.

I've been moderately bummed all day, over this and that.  After a no-big-deal, what-again kind of dinner that my husband graciously assembled, I sat here pinning pictures of Doctor Who stuff.  Just mindlessly puttering.

Eric, Mom, and I were chattering about random things off and on, Maelynn was trying not to have to eat the rest of her dinner, and Richie had long since finished and gone off to the living room to catch a little solo train time.

Okay, so I've been bummed because I miss what I used to do.  I loved my job.  It was something to leave it behind.  Honestly, I'm thinking that the time has almost come to go back... or has it?  And in all of that back and forth and pro and con I'm just... tired.  Nervous.  Unsure.  Yes, I loved my job.  I wasn't the worst at it.  But I'm the only one who can be their mom.  But I know moms who are AWESOME who only stayed home the six weeks allotted them after the birth of their babes.  And I'm torn. And there is about a year and a half before I'd even think about it, but for some reason, I miss it more than ever for the past few weeks.

Would the kids resent me for going back, even after they're in school?

Could I ever find a job that would fit our needs?  The kids have to come before the job.

Can I even still do it?  I mean really DO it?  I was okay at it, but I didn't stay at it very long in the beginning.

Could I take care of Ryan and do my job correctly?  Advocate for him, help him, be there for him?

It's kinda part of who I am, and that part is starting to scream.

My husband is behind me.  We're praying and considering and talking and any even looking is still a year and a half off.  I had an awesome conversation with one of my favorite working moms today, and she was fabulously encouraging, and great as usual.

But at the end of the day, it's still a long way off.  And I still don't want to miss the days with the kids in my desire to do it again.   I certainly don't want to wish away any of these days with them while they're little.  Honestly, painfully honestly... I miss my job.  There's a lot of me that wants to say that this whole being home thing is so fulfilling and ohmywordwhywouldIwanttowork but for today, and the past few weeks, that's just not where I am.

Tonight, after dinner, I got the most amazing comfort I could have dreamed.

Ryan walked over, put his chin on my shoulder, and draped his arms around my neck.  Usually this is a sure predictor of an oncoming request for something he wants.  But he just stood there, leaning into me.  After a minute, I leaned my head back, petted the arm under my chin, and said, "I love you, Ryan."

And you know what he said?

The kid who usually stares off into space when I tell him I love him, said "I love you too."

My eyes began to water, and I said it again, just because I didn't know what else to say.

Again, he said, "I love you too."

Just as naturally as if he'd always done it.

Y'all, I think I'm in.  I'm Mom.  I'm so thankful and grateful that I'm Mom, Mommy, and Mama.  I'm thankful that I'm their boo-boo healer, heart comforter, toy fixer, stuffy mender, food cooker, taxi driver, and referee.  I'm so inexplicably fulfilled by THAT.  The joy that God has given me through these children in nine short years alone is more than I can even say.

And whether I continue at home or wind up working, whether I wear jeans and a t-shirt or dress pants and a blouse, I am their mom.

When my Mom dropped me off in her dress pants and blouse for work, a light, clean perfume hanging on her collar as she hugged me good-night and implored me to be sweet for the sitters, she was still my Mom.

When she returned, often late because of emergencies at work (it was a hospital, folks) and dropped me off at school, usually exhausted, then went home and fell into bed to rest for the day until work again, she was still my Mom.

When she had a day off, and we went to the grocery store and rented a VCR and some movies, and we stayed up late watching and munching popcorn, she was my Mom.

When she had to let me go to Kansas with my father for a week, two weeks, or for the summer, she was STILL MY MOM.  And I missed her so.

And even now, whether she's on her way to work or home with my family, she's still my Mom.

And I'm theirs.  Our time together is great, and I will always cherish it.  I will always be grateful for the time I got to be home, no matter how long or short it remains.

And I'll always be Mom.  Whether at the band hall or the ball game or on the bus, at home playing video games inside or in the backyard playing or at the doctor's office with them, I'm still their Mom.

Thanks be to God for Ryan, for his love for me, and for his response.  And for the different shapes, sizes, types, and kinds of moms everywhere.

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