identity::being a mother
Posted on | March 9, 2010 | 11 Comments
To be a mother means to kneel a hundred times a day; to kiss a damp and tousled head after a nap, or to rub away some sticky mark upon an upturned cheek (and to wonder, was that oatmeal, or something worse?) It means pressing my knees into the floor, so I can look into the wide eyes of a small person who knows how to press all of my buttons and also how to unlock inexplicable emotions in heart, and to explain where people go when they die, or about the tooth fairy, or that no, the lollypop displayed alluringly at checkout is not an option. Being a mother means perpetually navigating a fine line between the profound and the mundane—a line I’ve discovered is often at floor level… and it’s there where the tantrums get thrown.
To be a mother means that my hands are always full: with the soft-jelly limbs of my baby Sprout, or with the eager sweaty palms of my Bean, bigger now, perpetually on the brink of dashing out into traffic, or climbing over fences, or scrambling down rock strewn ravines. And just as it means that I am carrying things, it means that my hands magic. With my hands, I accept imaginary cups of tea, paint dozens of pictures, rinse a thousand dishes, type a hundred thousand words.
But maybe it’s really about this: being a mother means becoming adept at the imaginary; at telling stories about monsters, or fairies, or of mice that drive dump trucks…. and its this capacity to imagine that makes enormous, extraordinary, things possible for my children, because I dare to dream them. Just as it’s this same capacity that allows me to imagine a time in the future without sleep deprivation…when my short-term memory will return… (it will, right?) and I’ll have just a little more time.
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March 9th, 2010 @ 11:03 am
wow. hats off to mothers everywhere. i never thought i wanted children but this past year, posts like these have been tugging at my heart strings and i am now sitting on the fence, which, you know, wouldn’t really be an issue if i wasn’t single and almost 35. eeek. but when did this become about me. haha. your words are beautiful and thought provoking.
March 9th, 2010 @ 2:07 pm
“Being a mother means perpetually navigating a fine line between the profound and the mundane—a line I’ve discovered is often at floor level… and it’s there where the tantrums get thrown.” So. True. This post is full of truth. And as for your short term memory, well. I still lack mine. My youngest ones are six. Post-its work though.
March 9th, 2010 @ 2:53 pm
i think about this a lot, my identity as a mother and it’s a comfort that you have a very similar push/pull experience…it’s truly magnificent.
March 9th, 2010 @ 3:57 pm
Mine are in double-digits, Megsie, but you’re right, Post-Its DO work. Thank goodness.
March 9th, 2010 @ 6:00 pm
That was beautiful and completely true. So glad I found your blog.
March 10th, 2010 @ 4:15 am
This is so beautiful! And truly, my life, too.
xo
March 10th, 2010 @ 7:17 am
Absolutely true. Floor level is right! I love how humbling, yet divine motherhood feels to me. Good medicine. xo
March 11th, 2010 @ 1:42 pm
I feel that you’ve really captured the essenced of mothering here, with tenderness and charm. It’s rare to see the less pleasant bits (sticky faces and tantrums) acknowledged in a way that isn’t dismissive or flippant, but sees that they are part of the greater package, that also involves the love and the heart swooping moments.
As for short term memory, good luck with that, if you find yours, perhaps you’ll look for mine (with children aged 6 and 2.5, I’m starting to doubt it will ever come back!)
March 14th, 2010 @ 4:50 pm
Such a perfect and true representation of motherhood… beautiful.
March 15th, 2010 @ 5:11 pm
Yes, yes, yes. Floor level, magic and mundanity, oatmeal and fairy tales, half-lost mind and ever-enlarging heart, yes.
March 31st, 2010 @ 1:18 pm
[...] on being a mother from Christina of {my [...]