Last year I wrote a blog post titled “Mothers Day and a Tough Weekend”. I can laugh now because my idea of a tough time then is much different than now. Earlier this week Soren had surgery. It was a safe and routine surgery but he ended up having reactions to the anesthesia (we think)….
Sensory bins are a huge deal in our house. I have versions for my baby and preschooler but today lets focus on the preschooler. My 4-year-old is a force of nature. Her nickname is Hurricane and she lives up to that name. However, even though (or perhaps because) she has enough energy for 3 children, she benefits so much from downtime. It helps calm her mind and refocus. It is like a mini recharge station for her mind and senses.
After having two girls I am having so much fun shopping for a little boy! My second daughter has only really worn hand me downs so I haven’t really been shopping for YEARS. Also, now that my little man is walking I can really step up his style.
Now that I have an 11 and 4-year-old I know that the time I am allowed to dress my kids is very short. In no time at all, he will express his own interests. He will be demanding orange over blue, dinosaurs over dogs, and Spiderman over Batman.
In all the years I’ve been a Mom I have never been great at saying yes. Obviously, from time to time I “let loose” and give in to whatever they request but it is never easy for me.
You see, I am the keeper of the tribe. The CEO, the healer, the accountant, the supervisor, the nourisher, the mender, and the entertainer. I keep a close watch on everything and carry the weight of it all. I don’t know how or why it is this way but it just is. From what I see around me and from past generations it is not an uncommon phenomenon for the Mother to lead in this way.
I find it amusing that, as a mother, I spend so much time manufacturing family moments. When I was a child and I experienced these moments, or even when I saw it on television and movies, I thought it was a natural process. Moments that were happily spontaneous and untouchable. Turns out they are touched all over by the Momma in the house. I am the architect of our memories.