He asked to hold my hand

This little boy has got my heart. He tugs not only on my hand as he takes me from room to room around the house to play, but he tugs at my heart strings, too. He’s tender, he’s kind, and he tells me he is brave. “Brave” he will say with conviction.

But even though he is trying to be brave, he is still a boy who needs his mama, and I’m glad. Because this mama still wants her little boy. After all, nowadays there is less rocking, the closeness of nursing is a distant memory, and cuddles are becoming fewer and farther between as he grows more independent day by day. But even though he’s growing, I long for those moments of just being close–the two of us.

The other day after he was hard at play for a while, we climbed in the car to drive home and there he was in the back. He suddenly said aloud, “Hold hand.” I looked back and there he was reaching for my hand. “Hold hand” he said again. He situated his hand just right and then he looked out the window-Just content- “cloud!” and “mountain!” he exclaimed.

holdinghands

It was this moment that I was so grateful for. For a couple moments my boy was back in my reach. Just him and I, and the clouds and mountains within our grasp.

“A mother holds her children’s hands for a while, their hearts forever.”- Unknown

He may not reach back and hold my hand for much longer, in fact, in a matter of a few short years, I don’t think he’d be caught dead doing that. But forever, we’ll be close. He’ll be my little, rascal boy, and I’ll be his mom–forever.

Stopping the comparisons: Just more experienced

The other day my boy, Parker, helped me bake in the kitchen for the first time. I’ve tried to get him involved before, but until yesterday he just didn’t understand. Having him help yesterday was fulfilling; one of those mommy moments I have quietly day dreamed about for quite a while. Son helping make cookies, stirring, tasting the dough

As I watched his small, chubby hands latch onto the spoon and start to slowly mix, my mind was flooded with memories of baking with my own mom. I would frequently step up onto a stool, put on my flowery apron, and be her right hand girl.

However just as frequently as I tried to help, I undoubtedly became discouraged. I remember looking at my finished product, then to hers, and back to mine. The disappointment was poignant. Why was Mom always so much better than me? As soon as I expressed my frustration, she would reply without missing a beat:

“I’m not better than you; I’m just more experienced.”

Me as a little girl learning to bake.

Me as a little girl learning to bake.

It made sense; it made me feel better. She had been baking for years and I was just a girl. It was silly for me to believe I could be perfect at something I’d practiced very little at. Her comment gave me hope.

Now as I’m a bigger girl, how often do I look at others, especially moms, and think–“She has it all together; she is so much better at being a mom.” A LOT. I do that a lot. But, is that accurate? Instead, I should think to myself, “She has three kids, she’s changed hundreds more diapers, she’s balanced housework with utter exhaustion way more than me. She may not be better; just more experienced.

Simple as that. No comparisons, no guilt, no discouragement.

In the end, we shouldn’t be so hard on ourselves. All those people we may be comparing ourselves to each day may just have more experience.

“Don’t compare your beginning to someone else’s middle.” – Jon Acuff

How have you learned to stop yourself from comparing yourself to others? What is a saying that has helped you throughout your life?

I got you, babe.

The last trip our little family went on was exhausting, but meaningful for many reasons. I’ve thought back on a couple instances in particular that were those “mommy moments.” When I feel like I’m at the tipping point between tiredness and utter exhaustion, and then something beautiful happens; something that reminds me I’m doing a great work.

We were on our first flight of the day, and already had spent 3 1/2 hours waiting around at the airport, and been up for 5 hours. It was 10 am. P was beyond tired. He was restless on the airplane, needing constant interaction and on the verge of tears.Then all of a sudden he just relaxed in my arms and slipped into silent, even breathing. Oh the beauty of silent, sleep.

I sat and stared at his sweet features, realizing what a perfect creation he is. Eyes, nose, eyelashes, cheeks… our bodies are amazing. Do you ever wish you could memorize your kids? Or just take a picture of those moments so they never go away?

I got you, babe.

My favorite part of this picture? His little arm wrapped tight around my neck. There is something great about being needed.

Then, all of a sudden he became restless. He woke up and his eyes darted back and forth, looking nervously around the plane. He seemed so scared and confused about his surroundings. I caught his attention, and smiled at him warmly. As soon as he caught my glace, he immediately softened, closed his eyes and fell back to sleep. These thoughts just kept coming back to my mind.

I’ve got you, babe. You are mine, and you are safe. Not to worry.

What a wonderful thing motherhood is. For me, it was the most wonderful feeling in the world to see P look up at me, and then realize he was safe. With me around, he was comforted. For me, there couldn’t be a better compliment in the world.

Today, P has been teething. He’s grumpy, grouchy, and crying. To comfort myself I keep replaying that precious moment. The moment I felt a little boys utter and complete confidence in me.

God could not be everywhere, so he created mothers. ~ Jewish Proverb

How does your babe make you feel needed and loved?