Today is Mother's Day, and I wouldn't be adding another entry to this blog if it weren't for my dear Sophia Penelope. I reflect on our days together and still, the most magical moment seems to be that when I transformed into "mother." Whatever I was doing before and however I filled my time, although it seems so trivial and mundane in comparison to how I fill my days now, it must have been important preparation for the calling of motherhood. To me, guiding and learning from Sophia is the most important work I will ever do. I am so blessed to have Gurshawn as my life partner, who has gifted me with this role. His support, loyalty, and unconditional love inspires me to rise to the challenge of mothering every day.
I have written about how time continues to slip away from us so quickly, that I just wish I could stop each moment in reverence and awe, photograph each smile and frown, videotape every laughter and scream. This is what motherhood forces me to do: to be mindful of every moment with Sophia, and to value the small details of the day, regardless of how challenging they can be.
How easy it is to become impatient during the morning trial of making, feeding, and cleaning up after breakfast, before I get the tot dressed, taken to the potty, shoes and jacket on and out the door to her morning program. How easy it is to grow irritable with the fact that I haven't properly showered or washed my hair, the fact that I have almond butter on my shirt, a trinkle of pee on my shorts when she couldn't hold it to reach the potty, dirt underneath my fingernails from planting flowers together. There are moments when I feel so tired driving home from her class, but yet, I must sing with excitement the "Wheels on the Bus" over and over again, as she requests, to keep her from falling asleep on the way home. There are many days when I am so physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted, I not only look forward to nap time, but at 4 o'clock, I'm texting Gurshawn asking him not to even stop for lemons and bread, but to come home right away after work. Sometimes it seems like a never-ending cycle.
Instead of growing in frustration, I focus on how she crunches her morning cereal, wipes her nose with the back of her hand, reminds me to sit down and eat with her, and I treasure the stolen kiss as I velcro her sneakers up. I focus on how she toddles around, falls down, but gets up in determination to keep on going. I focus on how she takes my hand as she steps down the front porch stairs, so innocently and filled with trust she is. I (try to) focus on not focusing my iPhone camera lens on her so much during her Art Class, and just be present to every stroke of her paintbrush. I am absorbed in laughing with her through her silly mistakes and messes she makes throughout the day. I imprint the memory of her cuddling her bunny and holding my hand as she snuggles up to breastfeed.
I want to capture and freeze every moment spent with her. Simply because, I will never get each passing moment back. She's changing, every day. She's walking, and no longer needing me to carry her around in my arms. She's mostly sleeping through the night, and no longer waking up crying for a snuggle and a feed. And, I don't want to wait until the day when I may have another baby to fully enjoy and appreciate these precious moments of mothering, as Sophia may be our only. A day will come when Sophia will be able to entirely feed herself at breakfast, take herself to the washroom, wash her own hands, and put on her own shoes, and zip up her own zipper. She will be able to wash her own hair, towel dry it, and put it up in a pony-tail herself. She won't need help walking down the front porch stairs, and won't mind at all if I check social media on my Phone when we are out together. There will come a day when she will no longer breastfeed, or want to hold my hand when we are out. So, it would appear that each moment spent with her now, is a magical moment, all continuously reaffirming that I am fully alive.
