May 22, 2018

These Days

These days being a mom feels like...
stealing a kiss and a hug whenever Carter is near; his legs so long now, bringing him to a height where his cheek meets my mouth when he’s close. I steal those kisses only to be given a sloppy one in return. But I’ll try and savour them, even though he’ll always be my loving guy and, thankfully, won’t outgrow showing his mom his love. He’ll keep his playfulness too, punching me in the car when he sees (or sometimes doesn’t see) a ‘punch buggy’. His knuckles digging a sharp pain into my biceps, but being rubbed out by his open hand when I mutter, ‘ow’.

These days being a mom smells like...
hockey. The stink of hockey hair from a smelly helmet, hockey hands from sweat soaked gloves, hockey equipment draped in the bathroom downstairs, oozing out the stench of my boy giving it his all on the ice. His determination, his drive, his dedication to the sport he loves, drips from him in a sweaty mess. But when he’s showered after his practises and games, the masculine smell of his shampoo reminds me that he’s on the verge of becoming a man and I want to slow down time and keep him close, keep him little, remember back to when I had to go into the dressing room to tie his skates and help him with his equipment.

These days being a mom sounds like...
an excited, loud girl on the end of a long distance line. A routine conversation consisting of mostly the same information, the same questions, the same responses each night we chat. But the anticipation of speaking and connecting to home is a must, even if it is the same every time.

These days (and all the days of being a mom)...
have music in them; dancing with the kids when they were babies and then toddlers, holding them in my arms and blasting the music. Now, I hold Carter’s hands and dance with him in the kitchen in an awkward effort to reenact our dances of years gone by. 
Carter's got the music in him, his shoulders shimmy when a funky beat plays on the car radio. His brother belts out the words in his off tune voice that makes my inner musician cringe. That voice drowns out his sister who carries the tune beautifully and who knows the actual words. As long as we’re sharing music, that's what's important. It is our connection. It is our outlet. It brings laughter and silliness. We sing like nobody’s listening and dance like nobody’s watching.

These days being a mom means...

facing constant challenges
and embracing ongoing changes.

These days being a mom means...
utilizing my fierce determination to get for my kids what they need most.

These days being a mom means...
celebrating small victories
and accepting things as they are.


Written Oct.2/17