There are points in time when my kids are my life. They are what I’m doing all the time. When they were babies and then little people, this was certainly the case and for the most part, I gave myself over to motherhood. I didn’t always like it, resented it some days, wanted to run and hide some days, but I was always there with them. Accessible.
Now, with my youngest turning four in a few weeks and my two older ones 10 and 13, I occasionally find myself with more than an arm’s length between me and them. I delight in it, that taste of wholeness and freedom and self-ness. Then, just like that, there’s one in my lap, one calling me from her room, one who wants to play gin rummy. I snuggle them, heed the call, say yes to the game because I know it won’t last forever. Still, I long for myself, even as I dive into motherhood for those minutes and hours, days and years.
My essay about the push and pull of motherhood is up on Mamalode. So grateful to share my story there.