She feels unprepared for this. Her mind shifts to eight years earlier, with round swollen belly, just nineteen, when she felt so sure and ready for it all.
And as she shakes her head a bit at how much things have changed in eight years she realizes how much has stayed the same.
Her children have presented her with many challenges. She was not prepared for a child with a personality so unlike her own. She wasn’t prepared for caring for a child with so many digestive issues.
And as she’s learned to mother these parts of her children she becomes more and more aware of how completely clueless she is about it all.
So she sits, with her nose in the book. As her soul clings to the words she feels reminded that as long as love drives her mothering it all works out the way it should. Answers come in those moments where her mind shuts down in parenthood confusion. Words come out and things are taught, expressed, and shared in wonderful ways.
It is not the same as mother of a daughter. He is the one who is her baby regardless of aging. He is the one that can’t be complete without mother’s acceptance and love. He is the one whose legs wrap around her waist tightly and who’s face firmly snuggles into her neck as her lullaby is sung. He is the one who clings to her first thing in the morning. Who has endless smiles for her when they sit together on the brown couch, giving each other loving glances in between stories or songs or maybe Team Umizoomi.
He is the one who finds something new and exciting about life every single day. A new letter sound, a new book, a new toy, a new way to play with a toy, everything for him in this third year on earth is new.
His favorite toy is Lightning McQueen. In the store this week his eyes were wide as he walked through aisles filled with “red car” and red car’s buddies and accessories.
His request for a skateboard was followed with joy and courage as he tried one out right there in the scooter aisle of Target. And with the giant helmet making the rest of him look all the tinier his mother’s heart thumped a bit harder with love and so much happiness at this phase in his young life.
Pages turn, the crisp sound fills ears with comfort. The joy found in black typed words on pages bursts forth in smiles. Hours are spent shoulder to shoulder, bums in lap, hands on arms, eyes looking up to meet eyes. A baby babbles as her hands happily smack against a cover. Her eyes sparkling look to her mother waiting for a smile of approval. Her excited squeals return and the book is again onslaughted with gleeful abuse. The siblings giggle and are happy when the mother distracts baby’s interruptions with a rattling toy. Or perhaps a cracker.
Small goals for today.
Rather than answer with, “You’ve learned this already, it should be easy.” Smile more, tell her, “I know you don’t like doing your math, but I’m sitting here doing it with you, we’re going to finish it together and when it gets difficult, I’ll help you.”
Though you said it at the beginning of the worksheet it won’t hurt to say it again and reassure her after each problem. If you feel frustrated realize that math can be a great time to build her character.
Pull Sierra aside for some one on one mommy time. It’s been too long and she looked so sad yesterday when Brooklyn got two hours of attention during lessons.