They Pull Me Through (and Tire Me Out)

The weekend is here. It’s been a hard week. A death in the family, single-parenting with Ryan out of town, Miles being in the terrible three stage, and Asher being in the terrible teething stage.

It’s tricky for me to keep my cool with Miles and Asher. The days are long, and I have to admit that I’m not doing that well. I’m losing my cool more than keeping it.

But what pulls me through each day are the very people who wear me out so much.

Miles is an absolute joy of a person. He is so curious, full of excitement, sensitive and sweet. Asher is an old soul, so interested in people, so willing to snuggle and freely gives a big, “HI!” to anyone who will listen.So when my back aches and screams at me for lifting Asher off the floor, I do it anyway, because there’s just something about the way he reaches for me.

When I think I can’t possibly take one more moment of incessant chatter from the back seat of the car, Miles says something like, “look at the cloud it looks like a pretzel with feet or a crabber with one broken claw, or maybe just a doggy.” And then I realize that every day with him is precious, a chance to experience more moments of creativity and light.
When the “MA MA MA MA” starts around 5:30am, pulling me from my dreams and I have to pry open my eyes and strive to sit up, it’s okay because I know the face I’m about to see. I know the joy that will spread across that face at the sight of me.

When I’m trying to concentrate at the computer and Miles keeps talking so I can’t focus, I stop and realize that he needs to connect with me. And just when I do, I have the honor of hearing, “I think I’ll call you Bongo, Mommy. Yup, Bongo. Daddy and me are going to call you Bongo Heather.” And when he laughs hysterically at his own silliness, I’m struck with the thought that he is so much better than anything else I could be distracted with.

When Asher screams and cries from the high chair because I just can’t feed him fast enough, grabbing his hair with his very dirty hands, I can keep trying. Because there are moments when he stops, he looks me right in the eye and tilts his head to one side and softens his face. It’s as if he’s saying, “I really love you, mommy person.” And that’s enough to pull me through a few more hours.When Miles won’t eat the food he’s served, just for the sake of not trying it, I add a little parmesan and he says, “that cheese looks like a fingernail like a cut fingernail it’s like a cheese fingernail.” And then we laugh and it doesn’t matter that we were both so frustrated a moment before.

When everything is crazy and I just can’t keep up; another diaper, another meal, another tantrum, another mess…I look over at Asher because I know there’s a chance he’ll give me that toothy grin, making everything okay again. And it never fails that he delivers, smiling up at me like he’s seeing a long lost friend.

When my cousin died last Saturday and left three boys to grieve for her, it made me cling to mine in a new way. I’m so thankful for life, so thankful for everything, even the moments that wear me to the core.