Category: a good day
When my wife suggested that we coach an under-four YMCA soccer team; I felt a deep internal groan bellow throughout my being.
I had questions. I uncovered that my wife’s best friend had sent out feelers for coaches. I guess finding a fearless leader for four year olds was a difficult task.
Another piece of this puzzle was that my wife was a shade over three months pregnant with our first child. This was supposed to be a selling point to prepare ourselves for endeavors to follow.
She wanted me to coach a team of wildling children who may or may not be interested in the sport of soccer. I played soccer when I was a young boy, and at some point mentioned this to my attentive wife. Her maternal instinct mixed with the fact that I knew the basic rules of a sport equaled a signed, sealed and delivered proposal.
I will admit …
When my two older children became capable swimmers and no longer needed me to hover over them in the water, I created a new parenting rule for myself. I decided I would wear a swimsuit whenever I accompanied them to the pool or the lake, even if I didn’t plan to get into the water. Being prepared to play the role of lifeguard was a way to hedge my bets and ward off the unthinkable.
One morning, I broke my own rule. We had traveled from Minnesota to Phoenix so my husband could attend a work conference and we could soak up some sun. When seven-year-old Louisa and five-year-old Sebastian made their request—could they “please, please go to the pool” for a quick swim before lunch?—I was already dressed. It seemed like a hassle to put on my faded swimsuit, only to change back into regular clothes an hour later. Besides, their …
It was finally here, that moment I had been counting down to all summer long: The first day of school. At the end of May it seemed so far away, but mid-August came quickly.
My daughter was bouncing off of the walls as she talked ninety-to-nothing about school. I almost shushed her so she could eat her breakfast, but I knew Kindergarten was already going to be a big adjustment for her.
She was going to have to sit still and be quiet. I didn’t know if my spunky five year old could do that, so I decided to let her jabber through breakfast.
I pulled the heavy door open to the elementary school, and hurried my daughter inside. The familiar smell of the school filled my nostrils, the mugginess surrounded me, and my mind wandered back twenty years ago to my first day at this very school.
Twenty years ago, I was scared, …
Today was your birthday. Last night I kissed you before bed, hugging you close while your little brother made siren noises and flapped his arms like a wild bird. I whispered in your ear about your special gift, the one you gave me, when you made me a mother seven years ago.
Your annoyance at your brother–completely understandable because, boy, is that kid loud–began to fade and a sweet smile spread across your face. I told you about the night you were born, a story you’ve heard dozens of times, and you drank it up like a thirsty bird.
How I was lying in bed, frantically going over my labor notes from class, wondering how on earth I was going to have a baby, when suddenly, I felt a stabbing pain in my abdomen, and bam, just like that, it was on.
“Did it help to read the notes?” you asked, brow furrowed. …
Every parent needs a break–from grabbing a kid-free lunch to a quick walk around the block to a hotel night stay. Date night is the most common advice for the overwhelmed mom.
I’ve heeded this advice, especially as a way to give ME the time-out I needed before a mommy meltdown.
Except… this solution isn’t sustainable. What’s the typical scene after a date night? I’m relishing the amazing dinner I just had, heading back home, maybe even feeling rested and replenished… only to open the door and realize it’s back to the grind.
Because there’s no quitting in motherhood. Anything else in life–a difficult hobby, a stressful job, or even a toxic relationship—we can quit. Feel like sleeping in and not working out? Sure. But that won’t happen when my kids are clamoring for breakfast.
Day in and day out—for years—it’ll be like this. And it can be overwhelming, if not downright depressing, when I’m …