My Kids Keep Hitting Me with (Mile)Stones

Most everything about being a mom hurts. From the process of becoming a mom, to the headaches from sleepless nights, to the weird pain transferred to moms when their kids get injured. Motherhood is painful. I think the worst pain of all isn't physical; it comes when you can't seem to pause long enough to take it all in.

I knew when our youngest was born that he would be our last. One of my favorite parts of all three of our children has been the very tops of their heads when they were first born. All three of my kids were born with thick, beautiful hair (thanks for all the heartburn, kids!), and I absolutely loved it. In the wee hours of the morning, I would nurse them, rock them to sleep, and then gently brush my face across the extra soft newborn baby hair. I would linger an extra moment soaking in that baby smell and that smooth, fine, pristine feeling against the skin of my cheek and then brushing gently against my lips as I would kiss the head of the little one as I laid him or her back in their bassinet, so I could feebly attempt to sleep for a few moments.  One by one, my children somehow learned to sleep through the nights, and they lost that gentle softness on the tops of their heads, and they lost their tolerance for allowing me to mess with their hair at all. 

Recently, our youngest hit me smack in the lips with a (mile)stone. I went to kiss the top of his precious not-so-little-anymore head as I laid him down for a nap, and his hair is COARSE. Not gentle. Not soft in any manner of speaking. His baby hair is GONE, and it has been replaced with the bristles of a brush instead.Our last baby has lost all of his precious super-soft baby hair and traded it in on little boy hair. This stuff is not suitable for snuggle time with mommy.

Speaking of snuggle time with mommy, our oldest was in desperate need of a nap today. Want to know why? I sneaked into her room last night and gave her a flashlight, so she could keep reading her book after it was time for lights to be out. She's only six, but she's a girl after my own heart. She just couldn't put the book down. I stood last night in the hallway with her door closed and listened in pain as my six-year-old read page after page after beautiful page of a chapter book about the curious narrator Nancy Clancy. That stone hit me square between the eyes, and it brought tears to my eyes. 

My four-year-old is registered for Kindergarten. Ouch! But she's so little and fragile. I wonder if I will weep all day long on her first day of school like I did when her sister went to her first day of Kindergarten. I might. It hurts just thinking about it now.

I often wonder if the pain of motherhood eases as time progresses, but I can already see as I look at moms who are in different stages of life that the answer is a solid "NO".  But the words to this hymn seem to be a clear message from above.

Day by day and with each passing moment,

Strength I find to meet my trials here.

Trusting in the Father's wise bestowment,

I've no cause for worry or for fear.

He whose heart is wise beyond all measure,

Gives unto each day what He deems best.

Lovingly it's part of pain and pleasure,

Mingling toil with peace and rest.

Mingling toil with peace and rest is part of pain and pleasure? Hmmm. That's an interesting thought to ponder. These words are beautifully true. Even though it is painful to watch my children grow and not need me as much anymore, there is an element that is a bit freeing. That loss of sweet baby gentle hair also means that I am not dealing with the burdens of burping a baby and changing a diaper at 2 a.m. That little girl sitting in her bed reading by the light of a flashlight means that though she's not my itty bitty infant anymore, she is growing more independent and strong everyday. Kindergarten registration means that I will have a bit more time to take care of our home next year instead of rushing to and from preschool twice each day.

The stones just keep coming. Some days they're bigger than others, and some days they make me laugh instead of cry. I guess all these milestones aren't meant so much to hurt moms as they are to encourage children to grow along their way. Those first smiles. Taking first steps. Holding a bottle. Crying when mommy leaves. NOT crying when mommy leaves. First words. Moving beyond pacifiers.  Roasting a marshmallow in a campfire. Sleeping in a big boy bed. Potty training. Dressing independently. Learning the alphabet.  Losing that tooth. Those little fingers figuring out for the first time how to pull those shoe strings into a solid bow on that shoe. Singing a solo in front of the church.  My prayer is that we are rejoicing outwardly for each of these stones that hit us and hurt us moms and dads as we look on these young intricate little people growing into beautiful, generous, kind, loving, grounded, responsible, intelligent individuals.




View my post about Five Tips for Saving Money on Easter Baskets When You Have Children.