The Scary Side Of Motherhood

Mommyhood is so many things. A million thoughts cross a mother's head every day. All mothers are different, but I wonder if we aren't all connected by our shared experiences in some ways, particularly the shared experience of loving someone else, uncontrollably, more than we love ourselves. This is a wonderful thing but also a scary thing. And it is often the source of some not so pleasant thoughts. These are some of those thoughts. They are thoughts that I often must wade through, but rarely speak of.

When Jacob was a newborn, my husband and I were discussing what we would do if a horrible predicament ever arose in which we could only save on person. I told my husband not to take offense but I was 100% certain I would save the baby over him.

He seemed a little surprised by my answer. He then confessed that he would save me. His reason was, that if he had me, we could make more children. The thought horrified me. I instructed him that he was to save our baby. That's what I would want. End of story. Several times since then I've imagined me and one of my babies being perilously close to the edge of a cliff. In my imagination, if my husband would start to reach for me first, I would threaten to jump.

It's a horrible morbid thought but I often have wandered back on that moment and wondered whether my husband's answer revealed some natural difference between mothers and fathers (or perhaps my husband is just too practical). A man's journey to fatherhood is so much different than a woman's journey to motherhood. Maybe there is a much longer bonding period? Maybe the father can't as clearly see the newborn as a part of himself, the way that a mother understands the child as an extension of her own body? (There is nine full months of evidence of that!). Maybe a mother who has come to know her child over the course of sharing the same body for nine months has a better grasp of the fact that no child can be replaced.

I'm curious how my husband would respond now, nearly six years later. But I could never ask the question. I could never play that game now. Now that I have more than one child, just the thought of the game makes me anxious. There is absolutely no way I could choose between my children. I'm having a nervous breakdown just thinking about it. When the thought pops into my mind, I quickly push it away and hope I would never have to know the answer.

I've unintentionally been thinking a lot of morbid thoughts lately. I think it has to do with pregnancy. One change I did not anticipate upon becoming a mom was that I would be so much more fearful and paranoid. After Jacob was born, I would take him out for jogs along my favorite running paths. And suddenly, the path that I had run so many times before seemed insanely dangerous. I ran over a bridge and became nearly paralyzed with the fear that it would fall into the water below. The cars seemed dangerously close to the sidewalk. And with every turn, I could almost imagine my stroller tipping over and falling into the street.

Things have mellowed considerably over the years, but I can still imagine the worst out of any normal situation. And lately, for some reason, my mind keeps wandering to the thought of natural disasters. Floods, tsunamis, earthquakes, fires. I hear one incident on the news and my imagination goes crazy. It's nearly unbearable.

I've lived a life untouched by death. I'm extremely sheltered from the deep pain that comes with losing someone. I can't even imagine how to survive through such loss. I can't imagine how heavy and paralyzing that pain must be. Still (and maybe because I'm so sheltered from it) the fear of losing someone consumes me often.

The more people I have to love, the harder it gets for me. When you create someone, your happiness is inextricably tied to that person's welfare and safety. I think every mother will agree that it's much harder to love someone else than it is to love yourself. You can't take away someone else's pain. You can't erase their nightmares. You can't wipe away their fears. All you can do is watch, helplessly. And the thought of living without them is more horrible than the thought of your own departure from the world.

Tangible, earthly love is scary. The deeper you love, the more you have to lose. The more precious something is, the more vulnerable it also becomes. The more beautiful, the easier it can be defaced. And it's totally humbling and mortifying for a mother to realize that as she holds the small hands of her precious children, she cannot control their future or fate. The saddest truth a mother will learn is that there are forces out there beyond her control.

As I think about making space in our family for a fifth person, I often wonder what I am getting myself into. Don't I get it by now that I'm creating my own vulnerability? That I'm setting myself up for heartache? That I'm inviting more uncontrollable paranoia? This is the dark, scary side of motherhood that rarely gets mentioned. And yet, it is consuming (for me anyway). It is a silent, but always present foe. And even though I know most fear is unfounded, irrational, and merely an absence of faith, it's something so integral to motherhood that it appears I cannot escape it.

I LOVE Summer

After dinner tonight, we loaded up the stroller and headed out to our nearby park. I've said this a million times but it remains true: the Seattle area is one of the most gorgeous places on earth. We happen to live in a wonderful area that is slowly revitalizing (read: down trodden neighborhood with cheap homes -- except for ours, of course, because we bought at the peak of the market -- with lots of public money being invested into local revitalization projects). Apparently, there used to be a meth lab on our street. Thankfully it's gone now. But the sex offender apartment is still standing proudly (we walk quickly past that building) as is the house with the toilet planters out front.... HOWEVER....trust me. It's a cute little neighborhood, surrounded by water, beaches, and majestic mountain views.

We also happen to live within a mile of five parks. One has a large playground with a boat launch, a beach, and a grassy field that hosts a farmers market every Thursday. Another has a play stage and musical instruments made out of rocks and other natural material. But my favorite park is the Harborside Fountain Park. Five large spouts that shoot water into the air. It's right next to the ferry terminal and right on the water. It's just beautiful.

I think my favorite part is really just the walk to get to the park. We pass a mile of residential city streets that display unique craftsman homes from likely 100 years ago (like our own home). Most of the houses are in need of TLC. But they are adorable. Oh how I love to house-watch.

Here is the back of the park, which faces the ferry terminal and the beach. Also featured: Jacob's favorite climbing rock.

 

Yahoo!

 

 

The marvelous fountains. The park abuts a large naval shipyard which has influenced the theme of the park. We live in a navy town. When a large navy ship is in port, our population increases dramatically. Our city is rough around the edges but golden at heart. It's bursting with personality.

The kids love these wading pools/fountains. Interestingly enough they weren't made with kiddie play in mind. But you know kids....

 

Ryan loves to watch the ferries come and go. Especially at 7:30pm when it is close to his bed time and he is too crabby to play.

 

 

Tonight, he insisted that his two stuffed bears (that he has barely even noticed once in his short two-year life) had to come with us on our walk. Suddenly he is inseparable from these bears. It might have something to do with a nasty cold he is fighting.

After a hotdog picnic, Jacob jumped right into the water. And waited patiently for the fountains to erupt. He has the timing down to a meticulous science.

 

Today the temperature reached a high of 92, which according to the radio was a new record for July 1st. Oh man, could we feel it. It was too hot to move. It was too hot to stand still. It was too hot to do anything. Except to be splashed.

SPLASH!

 

Since my husband joined us (which has been rare lately due to all the work he has been putting into our yard), I grabbed Ryan for a few quick pictures.

 

23 weeks!

Ryan and Daddy sitting and chatting...probably about balls and motorcycles and fire trucks. You know, all the important stuff.

And when we all had enough play, we enjoyed a sunny walk back home. On the way we stopped at the local 7-11, where you never know what you might see. One time, I saw a man walk in with a gigantic pet snake wrapped around his neck.

Summer Slurpees!

 

Insert Post Here

I was going to do a thoughtful post today about our weekend. But then I wasted all my internet energy on Facebook defending the Supreme Court decision in the Hobby Lobby case.

(Can I please just say that I'm sick of people telling me I'm "waging a war on women" because I don't agree with them. I'm a woman. Why would I wage a war on myself? Maybe instead of "waging a war" I actually have a thoughtful and logical explanation for my beliefs -- and before you say it, no they are not based on religious dogma. I feel like people label me so they don't have to engage. They can dismiss me as being the "enemy" without having to consider my point of view and dwell on the fact that it does not "jive" with their world view and carefully guarded intellectual reality. If my opinions differ than yours, it must be because: (1) I'm actually evil, (2) no really, I'm evil and am trying to singlehandedly destroy the world and women, or (3) I've been brainwashed. It can't possibly be that there is a valid disagreement or counter to your position.)

I try not to engage because it's Facebook and stupid and full of drama (and adults acting like children). But I'm a lawyer. Arguing is what I do. I get paid to look for and craft opposing positions. And, I enjoy it. And sometimes I just can't turn it off, especially when I feel strongly about something and my news feed blows up with one-sided comments.

Anyway. This is why I don't have a real post today. Not that anyone is particularly disappointed.

To end on a happy note, I just won a huge summary judgment motion in federal court. Like huge. And it feels amazing. Oh and my knee is finally starting to feel better so I'm going to run my first pregnant 5K on the Fourth of July. My goal is to run an 8:00 mile pace, which isn't too shabby but still disappointing to me because before I got injured I was set to run a 7:00 mile pace.

To Be Loved By A Child

I love my boys' room. It's cluttered and littered with toys. There are all kinds of weird items on display, organized without any rhyme or reason. It's a far cry from a page in a Pottery Barn magazine. The furniture doesn't match. The toy storage organization is clearly lacking.

But it's lived in. It's enjoyed. It's loved. And I kind of love that it's not perfect. In a world dominated by Pinterest, must-have baby and kid items, and perfect baby nurseries, my boys' room is real and down to earth. In the end, how important is it going to be that your kids had $250 matching bedding sets, perfectly painted and color-coordinated walls, a toy storage system worthy of Martha Stewart, and delicate decorative items too precious to be touched? This stuff may give bragging rights to a parent. But it doesn't matter half an ounce to a child.

In the end, kids are going to remember the memories that their rooms hosted. The blanket forts. The campouts. The personalized art. Their favorite toys. Their treasure collections. The things kids will remember are necessarily the things that result in messes. So when I see the after-effects of a kid-sized tornado that has blown through their rooms, I may cringe, but I'm also thankful. Because the pillows and stuffed animals strewn across the floor, the toys stacked in odd places, and the legos dumped all over the carpet are direct evidence of memories in the making.

The famous bunk bed blanket fort

 

Treasures on display

 

Painted driftwood materpiece

 

A practically empty container with a handful of pennies and dimes (aka: an irreplaceable, one-of-a-kind piggy bank)

 

3-D art

A very special robot creation

 



 

Lego handiwork

 

A beloved, painted rock

 

Dinosaur paper plate

Another "fort" (aka: toys placed meticulously on the floor in lines)

 

The other day, I entered the boys' room to put away some clean laundry. On top of the dresser was a weird mass of paper, glue, and wooden sticks. It looked like garbage to me. A valueless pile of trash. Moments later, Jacob walked in and I asked him about the trash. His eyes lit up and his voice took on a dramatic inflection as he told me all about this art that he created.

In that moment, I felt overpowered by a wave of awe. It struck me that children have a wonderful and powerful gift. With their innocent adoration and unfiltered view of the world, they have the ability to transform any object into a treasure. Take any piece of trash, add the love and wonder of a child, and suddenly that trash has incalculable worth.

As I was pondering this thought, another hit me just as hard (and they say lightning never strikes twice). I realized that this beautiful gift applies equally to people. It only takes the love of one child to transform your entire life and outlook on the world. It only takes the love of one child to drastically increase your worth and value as a person. In the eyes of my child, I am everything. I am beautiful. I am loved. I am a treasure. I am that much more special just because HE THINKS that I am.

I am beloved. Because I am beloved by him. And soon I will be beloved by three. Triple blessed.

The Greatest Weekend Of All Time

Great weekends are a double-edged sword for working moms. The positives are obvious. You enjoy yourself, spend quality time with your kids, and the worry that you are wasting precious weekend hours never crosses your mind.

But then Monday hits. The fantasy of living life without being chained to a desk and without being a slave to the clock comes crashing down as suddenly as the poisoned Snow White falls unconscious to the floor. One minute, you're enjoying a delicious, bright red apple. The next, you're in a trance of preparing lunches, responding to urgent e-mails, dressing cranky children, briefing emergency motions, cranking out laundry well past bed time (there IS no other time!), prepping for court appearances, managing pick-ups and drop-offs, and pouring over correspondence from nefarious opposing counsel. It happens every single week. But somehow, it catches you off guard every single time.

The more awesome your weekend is, the harder it is to face reality on Monday. And this weekend? In spite of a nasty sunburn (I was wearing SPF 50!) it was pretty much right there at the top!

On Saturday we met my sister at a nearby outdoor wave pool. It's one of the little known secrets of our region. It's fantastic! So fantastic, in fact, that you will often face a 45 minute line just to get in. I learned from past experiences and arrived 30 minutes before the pool opened. Turned out to be completely unnecessary, but it's never a bad thing to be prepared.

My sister and Jacob disappeared into the depths of the wave pool and practically did not return to our umbrella table until five hours later. They swam the WHOLE TIME!

Ryan was very much in need of a nap and so it took him a while to warm up to the water. This was totally fine with me because I'm not a huge fan myself. After a while, he found his niche in the baby pool and spent an hour climbing in and out while I soaked my feet in the water and (unbeknownst to me and my 50 SPF) roasted away the top layer of my skin. But I will NEVER complain about sunshine or heat. Even if it means suffering through my burns in happy silence.

22 weeks!

 

My handsome middle child lounging with me, Hawaii-style.

 

Ok, you can put the camera away now mom.

At one point, the temps must have neared 80. I reclined in my lounger by the pool and rested my eyes as Ryan slept on me. With my eyes closed, I could truly make myself believe I was on Waikiki Beach. It was complete heaven. Later that evening, as I drove two exhausted but happy kids away in my Subaru, with the warmth of the sun still emanating from my skin, and a crisp cool Diet Dr. Pepper in my cup rest, I was happier still.

I thought Saturday would be hard to beat. But somehow, we managed! Sunday morning we stopped by to visit my parents and to go for a boat ride. Nothing FEELS more like my childhood than sitting in my dad's 15 foot Bayliner, rocking over waves, with the wind teasing my hair, and the scent of saltwater being carried on the breeze.

Pre-ride muscle show.

 

My parents live here. I grew up (mostly) here. It is gorgeous. We are spoiled.

Watching boats go by.

 

Ryan dressed himself as an ewok. Cutest ewok ever.

 

 

I love it all. The smell of fiberglass. The sound of the prop whipping through the water. The rough carpet of the boat under my bare feet. The sound of boat parts clunking over choppy waves. The chill of the breeze as we speed on by. The way the wind pushes your hair back in a ridiculously persistent Frankenstein hairdo. The perpetual smile across the faces of all the passengers. The friendly waves of other boaters as they pass. You can't be in a bad mood when you're out in the boat. Somehow, when you step aboard, you enter a different dimension. Your worries slip away as easily as the land. There is absolutely nothing better.

My little beach bum.

Grandma's so much fun.

Waiting patiently for our boat ride.

Well, nothing except for sharing it all with your kids. Both Jacob and Ryan have been on the boat before. But each time is special. And Sunday proved no different.

Grandpa spoiled us by pulling up right onto the beach. We didn't even have to brave the annoying dinghy ride.

Checking out the surroundings.

Grandma is ALWAYS smiling. I swear I'm not exaggerating here. She could cheer you to death.

There is no such thing as a bad seat.

We drove the boat to a nearby town and docked just long enough to stroll through the downtown and enjoy an ice cream. My dad treated us all. My practical, frugal dad must be getting soft in his old age. (He did yelp at the fact that two ice creams put him back $7.... he's still my dad afterall!).

All docked-out and ready to party! (I'm so corny!)

We enjoyed gourmet peppermint and fresh strawberry ice cream at Mora Iced Cream in Poulsbo, WA.

I've been dreaming about that peppermint ice cream ever since.

Spending time with my parents in a different environment was so refreshing and fun. The thing about small boats is that they force everyone to be together and socialize distraction-free (well, as long as you don't count breathtaking views, exciting wildlife sightings, and the heartwarming laughter of children as distractions). I have a great relationship with both of my parents. But because they watch my kids 2-3 days per week, a lot of our time is spent talking business. Where should we meet up? Who's taking the kids Friday? Jacob did what?!

 

My mom was laughing so hard she bent over sideways. I love that she will laugh at anything.

 

Grumpy Grandpa (or as Ryan calls him "Bampa") teaching a lesson.

 

A perfect day with my THREE boys :)

 

It was really nice to sit down with them and remember that they are people too. Not just parents. Not just grandparents. Not just childcare. I'm so thankful for both of them. It's hard sometime for me to not be the one who cares for my kids all day long. But if I can't do it, there is no one I'd rather have watch my kids than my mom. I know I have my own talents, but she is BY FAR a better mother than I am. I can say that hands-down without reservation because she is far more selfless than I am. She is 10x more patient. And she is never, EVER anything less than cheerful (even when things are hard). I don't know how she does it. If I didn't know her the way I do, I'd SWEAR she was on happy pills.

Grandpa stealing a smile.

I love them. I am so blessed to have them. And a day does not go by that I recognize how wonderful they are.

P.S. Monday suuuuuucked!