Three thoughts

One

I don't often write these days about how much I desperately, crazily love my children.  I also don't often think about how I want to freeze time and keep them tiny.  Lately I haven't been completely panicked about their growing up.  I think it's simply because I enjoy them more now.  I don't feel desperate, crazy, and panicked.  So I don't feel desperate, crazy, and panicked about them.  No offense to my kids when they were a little (or a lot) shorter, but I like having a first-grader and a four-year-old so much more than having a baby and a toddler or a toddler and a preschooler.  Am I allowed to admit that?  Well, I am.  Because I am who I am.


Two

It's funny how life doesn't always turn out how you would expect.  When I was in my twenties I just assumed there would always be time for life to turn out how I expected/wanted/hoped.  Not that being 34 is old or anything.  But being 34 is old enough to realize that time may actually run out, that mortality isn't infinite.  So if I would like to change the arc of my life, sooner is probably better than later.  Or, if I am at point A and in so many years I would like to be at point H, then it's probably time to figure out what point H is, and what I might need to do to move onto point B.  I also realize that God lets us know what point H is when we're ready.  Age 34 is also old enough to begin accepting that no matter what, no matter how proactive I want to be, aspects of life that I expected/wanted/hoped may not be.  Guess what.  I can't control everything.  But I can put myself in God's arms and trust.


Three

I am affectionate and expressive with my children.  It is very natural for me.  (This is something that surprises me about myself as a mother.  I'm not sure why, but it's a matter I believe best explored with a therapist and not on a blog.  You're welcome.)  But sometimes I lose my patience with my children.  Sometimes I am short with them. I used to think (subconsciously) that if I was very affectionate with them and then at times short-tempered with them that I would confuse them and so I should perhaps hold back on the affection a little until I had mastered patience completely.  Fortunately, one day I consciously realized what my subconscious had been thinking.  And I squashed that stupid thought.  I have not mastered patience--not even close--but I freely and frequently shower my children with affection.  For all of my faults as a mother, I know that my children know that I love them.  That feels good.