Anyone, parents or not, can clearly see that there is a lot not to like about being a parent. “Nights out” are now at TGI Fridays, Bertucci’s or the NinetyNine (especially the day after the Sox win when kids eat free). A movie date is usually an animated flick that one can only hope will be enjoyed on two levels. Road trips seem to include more bathroom stops than miles. Not good. Not good at all. However, those of us that are parents can clearly tell you how much there is to absolutely love about it. We all know the obvious stuff like unconditional love, an endless supply of Goldfish crackers and fruit snacks, and a ready excuse to act like a bozo and dance around in public when your favorite song comes on over the airwaves at Target. But the less obvious stuff is where the true love lies for me. (OK, maybe the “fruit snack benefit” is less obvious to others, but I love that stuff. Don’t be a hater.)
I love that I can see myself in my children. I don’t mean physically so much, because my blonde-haired, blue-eyed babies bear very little resemblance to me, but more the impact my parenting and personality has on them. I hear my words and intonation in their expression. I see my style in their communication and relationships (however not in their clothing choices, thankyouverymuch). I notice my likes in their preferences. My kids have a lot of me in there, but more impressively, they have a lot of them, mixed up with me, mixed up with what I have taught them. I love helping them become who they are and will one day be.
I love being the greatest sculptor of all, molding some of the most fabulous works of art this world has ever seen. Art enhances and adds beauty to every day life. That’s what my children do for me. Their smiles, their laughter, their hugs, and even their tantrums are extensions of my creation and influence. I love the masterpieces that they are.
I love that my heart lives outside my body and in my children. I send it to school every day and hope it comes back in one piece. I send it to basketball, to jujitsu, and on playdates and tuck it in to bed every night, hoping it sleeps peacefully with happy dreams. My capacity for emotion has tripled, with the addition of the feelings of two kids paired with my own overwhelming sensitivity. I am open to more pain than I ever thought possible, vulnerable all over again to playground drama, cliques and mean girls. But I also never knew the joy and love that the open heart of a mother could experience and I can never explain it. I love the depth of feeling I now know.
I love the daily abdominal workout I get from laughing at these ridiculous children I have produced. There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t belt out a big, healthy, open-mouthed belly laugh. That rocks. Without trying, these kids amuse the snot out of me. I love the heck out of that.
I love how much I learn about myself every day through them and because of them. I didn’t know I was a baker, or a cake designer, or a coach, or a triathlete, or a fighter until I had kids. I didn’t even know I liked kids all that much until I had my own, and they had friends, and then I’d love a houseful of ‘em. I didn’t know I wouldn’t want to be “corporate girl” for long or that ruling the business world would have little to no appeal. I didn’t know I’d choose a job that doesn’t pay or that that job of being a mom would be my favorite. I love that I know me a little better every day.
And while all these things are definitely worthy of love, the thing I love most about being a mom is that I have something bigger than myself to be strong for, to get up for, to be better for. There is more than just me and my silly old stuff. On those dark days where I don’t want to get out of bed, I suck it up and put on a brave face (and plenty of under-eye concealer.) Instead of bending and cracking to pain and pressure, I find the strength and kick the crap out of my problems. When I consider sacrificing my standards and calling it “good enough,” I think about my kids and I recommit, try harder and knock it out of the park. For as much as I give them, they give me so much more. I love them more than they will ever understand.
