5 Things I Believe

5 Things I Believe

I believe that I am better mom working even if I am barely treading water.

My head is currently bobbing up and down in a current of water that seems at times to be so fierce that there have been moments this week when I am ready to concede and drown and at other times is so calm and normal that I feel like I am floating. My eyes begging to close as the salt of stress and fatigue wears on me. One week back in the grind of an ocean I call life. Learning how to balance and stay afloat in water is so hard to do, but once you master it, you don’t forget it. We are finding a groove, a routine, how to float. Juggling dinner, bottles, baths, dishes, preparations for the next day and babies.

I believe that it is quality of the time that you spend with your kids that counts, not the quantity.

I sink into our glider, I watch Cate as her eyes meet mine and her hand grips my finger tightly and fiercely. I find myself quickly seeking the steady rocking motion that calms her knowing it calms me too. I feel my shoulders loosen and allow myself to focus on her. Only her as she flits her eyes eventually sleeping soundly as I rock.

I turn on our Christmas station in our kitchen and pick Brady up. I dance with him and sing the lyrics loudly. Spinning him around until he squeals in delight, hugging him close to me so I can absorb his energy, his curiosity and pure delight in simple things. He asks for more and I oblige so we can enjoy this moment.

I believe that when parents work together, life is simpler.

I instinctively get Brady’s pajamas out and his clothes for the next day. Glenn gets Cate’s bottle warm without having to be asked as the medicine is dispensed in her mouth. One misstep and the baby is screaming, a the 2 year old is begging to wear “Buzz” for the third time in one week. But we force each other to stay afloat. Not allowing each other to sink, supporting each other “by taking one for the team”. He eats with Brady, takes his second shower of the day with Brady to not disturb Cate, and doesn’t question me at 8:30 when I head to bed. We may not communicate out loud frequently or have stimulating conversations, but this week we are closer than we have every been. We know each other’s eyes. We each have our jobs. I make bottles, Glenn puts Brady to bed. We collapse on the couch at the end of the night. Our eyes tired, our backs sore and ready for bed. Yet, we gear up to do it all again because we are trying to stay afloat.

I believe that watching my children interact are moments that will always bring tears to my eyes.

Cate was fussing on Sunday night as I was trying to get dinner on the table. I just needed BOTH hands for three minutes and she was crying in her chair. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Brady sauntered in the room with something he painted earlier that day. “Bop (Stop in toddler speak) Bop Cate. Bop cry Cate. Bear. Here.”He throws the picture at her and begins to tickle her toes.

I walk in to Young Preschool room at daycare and we got through the motions. Coat and hat on and then say our goodbyes. We walk out to where Cate’s car seat is and he pulls down the cover. “Hi Cate” as he bends down and rubs her head. Pushing her stroller out of daycare with a protectiveness and sense of pride that I can’t explain.

Cate was on her activity mat last weekend. She was contently staring at things but eventually wanted to be picked up. I was in the office sifting through the mail. I watch him. One car. Then the second. Then a third. He gave her every car he was playing with and then laid his head next to hers.

I believe that my family is what makes life worth living.

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