Thoughts that Slay Me

(Hi there. Let's just ignore for the time being that I haven't posted on here since...sometime last year.)

Mathilda, my big girl, my baby, gives the best hugs. Hugs that remind me we're all a piece of the same big pie, that we're more than these physical bodies that we think define us, that the Beatles had it right: all we need is love. Yes, hugs can do that; good hugs can. Mathilda loves to sit on my lap, to cuddle, to crawl into bed between Chris and me on lazy Saturday mornings. It's delicious and warm and the coziest thing pretty much ever.

As I sit in the preschool parking lot, waiting for the three hour school day to end, I'm thinking that the remainder of Mathilda's preschool career can be measured conveniently in weeks, or even days. Her time as a four-year old...the same. She will turn five the day before she becomes a preschool graduate. I'm thinking I'll only get to watch her run up the stone steps and proudly open the giant wooden door a handful of times before this era of her life, of my life, is over. Her days of picking apples from the mural in the preschool stairwell are coming to a close. I've been walking down these stairs for eight years, which means I've eaten a lot of imaginary apples.

Soon, too soon, Mathilda will be five, which as any parent who has been there knows, is a world away from four. Preschool graduation will come and go, we will have our long awaited summer, and then, as my friend Julie says, the "k word".

I am choking on the pain of letting go.

Trying not to, because this is just life. It's how things work. "Mine" is not truly a word that can be used to describe any of my children. They belong to themselves. Truth is, I am more theirs than they are mine. I merely have had the privilege of helping to usher them into this physical world, to guide and protect them and let them dance on my toes until they are ready to fly across the dance floor of life on their own.

This brings me back to my Mathilda (I can't help it, it feels like she is mine) and her soul-affirming hugs. Who am I without a child to hold? I'm not sure I know. I'm not sure I want to know. But I do know there will come a day when my youngest will no longer want to sit on my lap, when she will be too busy for long hugs and cuddles, and when she will realize she doesn't need me nearly as much as she thinks she does right now. When that happens, well it feels like my very essence of being will just seep right out of me. I know that's not true. Kids grow up, parents live to tell about it. I am a person who can be described in terms outside the realm of motherhood. I know that's true.

I will always be a mother, and it will always be my most cherished role. Yet, as impossible as it is to fathom from where I stand now, before my first child was born, I was a whole and complete person. And as my children continue to grow and to need me less and less with each passing year, I will continue to be a whole and complete person, and continue to do plenty of growing and changing of my own. I know all this is true.

"Can I run and hug you, mama?" Yes, baby girl, you can. For as long as you are willing, I will lift you up as you take a running dive into my arms, and swing you around, and inhale the intoxicating scent of your sweet head while I kiss your soft little cheeks. And I will not think about whether this will be the last time.

More Than a Mother

My husband and I started dating in high school. By my senior year we were pretty much attached at the hip. We married relatively young, after dating for six years, and soon started a family. And for the past 12 years my life has been consumed by my role as Mother.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

I don't pretend to be the best mother. No illusions here! But I try to be the best I can be. I'm always learning and always trying to improve, although sometimes I slip and have to start all over again, and sometimes I just darn right suck. There is nothing I think about more than my children and parenting them. I go to sleep worrying or smiling in pride every night. It is hard to fathom what sorts of things use to occupy my brain before I became a mom.

The volunteer work I make time for revolves around my kids and their schools. The books and blogs and articles I read are usually related to them in one form or another - what to feed them, what to do with them, how to teach them something, where to take them, how not to ruin them for life. My conversations with my husband, my friends, and my family are almost always related to them. Many of my friendships started via my kids, by making friends with their friends' parents.

I am a mother in every sense of the word, and I am largely defined by that role and title. I'm not complaining because it's what I've always wanted, and it's a blessing, and I love it.

But dig a little deeper and you will find that there is more to me than being a mother. When I was starting to feel like I was losing that identity a little bit, that part of me that is my core being and doesn't depend on my children to define me...that's when I started this blog. Actually I think I felt like that for quite awhile before I started blogging, and it took me some time to figure out that writing helps bring me out of that all-consuming cloud of parenting. I need that to live and thrive. I need more than motherhood, and although I felt a pang of guilt typing that, there is nothing wrong with wanting and needing more.

So I write. And I go to the gym. And I run. And sometimes I see my friends and none of us bring kids along, and we might even get in a few sentences about topics outside of parenting. Not often, but sometimes.

And this week, I'm going to New York City. With a friend. No husbands. No kids.

I went from being a girlfriend to a wife to a mother...but I still get to be ME. It took me a long time to realize that and own it. I'm still stumbling along and it's not always easy. In fact, the day my friend and I booked our airfare, I wavered and hyper-ventilated and hesitated and mildly freaked out and pretty much felt like I was going to puke and pass out. Then I said let's do it. And a small part of me acknowledged that it was okay and I deserve it.

I'm a mother, and I love it. There could be nothing more rewarding in this world.

But I'm also me, Alysia. Blogger, wannabe runner, wife, and friend.

And Oh. My. GOD. I'm going to New York City! This is a dream, and it's coming true. I'm so excited!

I'm not sure how much blogging I'll get done while I'm gone, but I'm estimating none. So I've scheduled a few posts from previous years to be re-published. You probably never read them, or you forgot all about them if you did, so please keep visiting while I'm away. And I'll probably be blowing up Instagram, so if you don't already please follow me there: Michigalmom.

Finally, if you have any tips for fabulous must do attractions in NYC, preferably free or low cost, please leave me a comment!