Last year on my first Mother’s Day it was all so new. They were so new, barely 4 weeks old.
Skin not yet filled, limbs that still flailed aimlessly whenever unswaddled. I was in the midst of the after hormone high. Nothing could stop me, nothing could make the newness of Mamahood be anything but shining.
That all changed a few weeks later as I came crashing down and found myself in a fairly deep well of sleepless exhaustion and unstable emotions, of questioning of myself and all others around me and never feeling like I had any of the answers.
This year I look at those once fragile limbs, now sturdy and full of purpose. Those limbs now carry them steadily from one mission to another.
Those legs climb and conquer grass and dirt and steps. Those legs also love to walk right out the front door if given the chance.
Those arms carry and find and pull and push. Those hands, last year enclosed in socks to prevent scratches and scrapes to delicate face skin, now squish all things of all matters, from food to dirt to unyielding rocks that you eventually surrender to me after a few entreaties.
They confidently stack block after block, open drawers, and close doors.
Motherhood is so unexplainable, sometimes unendurable but always, always unbelievable.
We have taken to going into their room at night before we turn into sleep. I retrieve the Ipod and use the backlight to check each boy, to see them once more before my day is done, an odd kind of compulsion seeing as I have been with them all day. Invariably we find them in positions that speak of their individual characters, as loudly in sleep as they do when awake. .Mason is usually in some convoluted shape, head flung back, arms wrapped to one side, blankie tangled impossibly under body…soundly sleeping. Owen is in a luxurious sprawl, arms flung above head, legs fully extended, taking up as much crib space as possible. His handsome face always makes me pause, in sleep his boyness so pronounced.
I wonder if we will find them in their future beds, together, Mason jammed against wall, Owen taking up the majority of bed space. I wonder if they will want to be in the same bed, want to be that close. I wonder if they will be like those boys we met in the park the other evening, those seven-eight-nine year olds fascinated with our twins. We spent the better part of an hour watching as the older boys careened about the grass with ours, entertaining them with their antics, swooping in for a hug, unfazed by the sticky drooley faces of the babies. I wonder if I will be able to raise boys of such caliber, such ease with both child and adults. I wonder if they will someday resemble the adolescents we saw today on our walk, in tight jeans and clumsy skate shoes, strolling together down the trail, faking exhaustion and ribbing each other with good natured smiles. And I wonder if I am going to survive the 2 to 1 nap switch with twins.
Then it hits me. It is all about wonder. My life is full of wonder. Every moment of every day is wonder filled. The wonder does not always look pretty, or behave well or fit conveniently. But it is wonder nonetheless. And that is what my journey of Mamahood has come to be about.
When I was growing up there was only one woman I idolized. It was Wonder Woman. She was so strong and beautiful and cool. She was able to take on the world and wear an outrageous outfit and use a lasso. She was the end all be all in my young girl life for quite some time. I am now able to see that she was Linda Carter. But I can also now see that I am finally the Wonder Woman I wanted to be, part of so many things, Mama and other. I hope I am Wonder Woman to my boys and that they will always know how very, very much their Mama loves them.
Happy Mama day to all my Mama friends out there. I know you are all Wonder Woman in your own lives.