motherhood // embracing transitions

spring is one of those seasons that our ears recognize far before our eyes have an opportunity to catch a glimpse.  we hear it in the birds perched atop the corners of our rooftops, in the rain drops that pitter-patter against the glass by our bedside, in the distant echo of a neighbor's lawn mower, and in the sweet laughter of children playing in the streets after school.  it is mid-march and we can't quiet see it, but we know it's almost here.  spring, my dear, you're so very close.

in this transition it is easy to wish that spring was here right now knocking on our front door.  how easy it is to let our impatient tendencies take charge.  but it is very important to note that transitions are important, too.  as a mother i am learning that inside the parameters of those in-between spaces is where all the growing happens.  those messy bits, if you will, are essential.  they make for a stronger foundation.  transitions give us time to prepare for what is coming.  a pause, so to speak, to hit the refresh button on life if need be or to brace ourselves for what looms ahead.  a time to organize priorities and start new rituals.  to relish in the newness that the beginnings of each season gives us.

not only are we in the middle of a natural midwestern transition with regard to the changing of seasons, but with our babies, too.  at five months theodore is on the verge of rolling all over and becoming mobile.  gone are the days where we can prop him up like an old man in the corner of the couch as i tend to chores or cook supper.  and stella, she is entering a stage in which she is thriving on being challenged.  to meet her needs, we are looking at preschools and foreign language classes for little learners.  she is ready to take the leap, but for now, we are indeed in a transitional phase and are doing the best we can to keep up with her quest for knowledge, exploration, and creativity.

navigating these transitional waters can be rather challenging.  at times, it has left me feeling so stretched that i could barely find a spare moment to care for myself.  parents, i am sure you can identify.  last week there was an afternoon where i broke down in uncontrollable tears and called andrew to come home early from work.  he was on a business trip two hours away and would not be home until seven.  i felt so alone.  so lost as a mother.  after much angst, i put the babies in a safe place, took a short but steamy hot shower, and with my hair still dripping wet went outside for a stroller walk to the park.  both babies loved the fresh air, as did i, so it did all three of us some good.

on that walk i let my mind drift.   i thought of the bare trees.  the endless patches of yellow-brown grass.  the piles fallen pine needles.  and i thought of deeper issues.  the ones bubbling below the surface.  i thought of how i could be a better mother to my babies.  how i could balance life's difficulties while still being a supportive wife and mother.  i came to the realization that i needed to give myself more space to embrace this transitional time so that growth may take over in areas of my life that need nurturing.  i needed more slow in my life.  more calm.  more quiet.  and less distraction.

to allow for said slow time, i've been putting my phone and computer away for long stretches at a time each morning and afternoon.  sure, i'll snap a few photos here and there, but i have been mindful to not let it consume me while my babies play blocks or roll about our living room.  physically putting it away or keeping it off has been such a gift.  it has allowed me to feel as though i can better tend to my babies as they transition into the next stage of their lives.  the internet will always be there waiting but these short, sweet moments i get to spent with my babies as they grow will not always be here.  they are fleeting.  i need not ever forget that.

in recognizing that stella needs more one on one time with me, i've made sure that in this new season we are going to do one art project a day together.  it helps us slow down and use all of our senses.  we are going to keep on making lunch at the noon hour, too.  that precious time in the kitchen is calming for the both of us and helps us bond.  we need that quiet hour or two to create and cook as mother and daughter right now.  to talk about life and learn something new without the nagging distraction of social media or the constant flow of emails that need tending to.  to be fully present with both of my children is a gift that must be welcomed and praised daily.

as this current time of transition withers away giving more space for spring to blossom and bloom, our little family will spend the coming weeks readjusting our focus on what really matters in hopes that when those soft petals grace the trees around our home, we will have found a more soothing rhythm for our daily life.  we will work on giving more quality time and attention to our littlest who needs help rolling and scooting.  we will work on challenging our oldest; getting down on our hands and knees to build magic kingdoms and painting projects and watering our daughter's beautiful, growing imagination.  and for ourselves, we will keep enjoying moments where solitude presents itself.  not taking time for granted.  allowing contentment to take over, whereupon we may favor a path of less distraction and more authentic living.