Reasons...

July 2002:  Matthew, age twenty months.

 Beyond anything the human mind comprehends,

Further than any great distance covered,

I awake each morning: rise, prepare

for another exhausting day of mothering.

June 2004:  Andrew, age fourteen months. 

And yet, without reservations, without hesitation,

I would (and) do it all,

again and again; day in, out

for all the millions of reasons

every other mother does what's necessary.

October 2008:  Joshua, age eighteen months. 

Our relentless love for our children,

and the light in their eyes,

as they experience a precious moment.

That light goes against all reason...

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Five for Five: Listening

Listening to your three rambunctious children

shouting their goodnight's and love you's,

whispering in bed instead of sleeping,

the sounds of their cascading giggles,

is a beautiful lullaby for mothers,

and one I would not trade

for any golden treasure on Earth.

Hold

Matthew, January 2002- Where has the time gone?

My mercurial boy is growing quickly.

Mood swings threaten, take us under.

You yearn for freedom, I ache.

My heart wants nothing more than

to hold you in my arms,

as you sleep, make everything better.

Your bed barely holds you now,

as you change before my eyes.

Your existence still holds me enchanted,

and my heart holds every smile,

like a priceless treasure carefully guarded.

Return

Like a boomerang,

you always return.

I am complete.

My heart full.

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Wishing all of my readers a very Blessed Easter and Passover!

Offering...

A tiny flower, a gentle heart.

His muddy hand carefully cradles

the delicate lace of purple petals.

My youngest son's eyes eagerly await

the smile that curls my lips.

I  whisper "thank you" to the Universe:

for him and his joyous offering.

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Guilt...

Red velvet cupcakes.

Spinning for 60.

Here's to hoping

that my guilt

(and weight) disappear

as quickly as

that damned cupcake.

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Chat...

Our children busy, wrapped in imagination.

Breakfast dishes littering the kitchen table.

You and I, two coffee cups.

The aroma entices us to awaken;

a truth serum for the weary.

Long forgotten antidotes, reminders of events.

Our past, present and future whispered;

treasured on this rare, quiet morning.

My hopes spoken, worries finally revealed

to my faithful confidant, secret keeper.

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Share

A very well deserved getaway, alone.

The last slice of adult pizza.

A stolen moment of longing, silence.

The seemingly insurmountable grief of loss.

The joy of seeing our kids.

The worry of parenting the kids.

The very last crumbs of tiramisu.

With you, sharing is not optional.

That is just fine with me.

There is no one who shares

quite as well as you do

all of life's joys and sorrows,

as well as favorite culinary delights;

the warm comforters on cold nights.

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Heart's Focus

After sixteen years, what was fuzzy

is now clear, without question, unmistakable.

The life we have built together.

Our solid commitment to each other,

the upkeep of our family garden;

the weeding out of what's damaging,

the cultivating of memories that flourish

within our minds, hearts and souls.

You are my heart's sharp lens.

You focus me on the importance

of the legacy we will leave

for the magnificent men they will become.

The lens in which I always

look through to gauge the truth

resides within my ever faithful heart.

And only you hold the key.

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True to myself

Aways armed with my moral compass,

I stand here; in the moment.

True to myself, to my heart.

And that is all I need.

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Saving myself…

Once upon a time, long ago,

a little girl grew up with

poverty and sadness; a dizzying combination.

She promised herself an ever after

that included copious amounts of happiness

and never having to worry about

how to pay your doctor’s bills.

She worked hard, found Prince Charming,

and her happily ever after that

included a roof over her head,

food on the table, bills paid.

Saving for rainy days became something

that would guarantee a safety net

in case the dream was broken.

When her children arrived, she realized

that saving for rainy days now

meant providing a net for them.

Saving for rainy days today means

putting a little extra money away

to help with surprises: good, bad.

But more importantly, to help me

get myself through those tumultuous days,

my heart’s snapshots always remind me

that the greatest fortune to save

is the love of your family.

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Better half...

In the wee hours, impending adversity.

You held my hand, silently praying

for the impossible miracle that came.

Your warm lips on my forehead

were all the strength I needed.

Then and now. Always and forever.

You. My rock. My love. Evermore.

The only one I see across

a crowded room of friends, strangers.

The one who still makes me

catch my breath, still my heart.

In the moments of inevitable weakness,

your strong hands lift me above

whatever clouds my mind, heart, soul.

In the moments of incessant insanity

that life with three boys brings,

our eyes meet, knowing that life;

our life, is full. Of love. Of joy.

Our life: perfect in its imperfection.

Twenty years have not clouded us.

Marriage, parenthood: challenges to strengthen us..

You. The perfection in my imperfection.

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How to... try to have fun (in spite of the kids)

Book a weekend alone, plan outings.

Pack your bags, kiss the kids.

Say goodbye. Wave. Peel rubber, baby!

Make your way to your destination.

Toast your good fortune, your escape.

Beach, restaurants, big plans: movies, dancing.

Reality? These two "fun" people's plans?

Fizzled out with the evening's twilight.

The culprits? Not the usual suspects.

No little boys and their antics...

Too much sun, too many cocktails,

Super early bird dinners sans children,

Make for sleeping parents at 9:00 p.m.

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Fast. Slow. In-between.

My feet pounding on the asphalt.

Breath comes heavy, sweat cleansing me.

Keeping the beat of my soundtrack.

Pushing, hoping for better time.

Deadlines looming, obstacles to overcome daily.

The clock ticks ever so slowly.

Eyes glance continuously, disappointment looms.

It could not possibly go slower.

But somewhere in between the hoping

for better pace, for warp speed

on the slowest of some day,

I know I cannot control time.

Every day, knowledge of time's passing,

gnaws at my heart, mind, soul.

I pray for time to slow,

for more time, a slower pace:

to enjoy these boys who grow

at warp speed, heart aching pace.

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Another move...

Another fall. Another phone call. Worry.

Another set of plans gone awry.

Another chance to do what's right.

Another mess to efficiently clean up.

A house to box up, sell.

Another move to a new place,

to start over at the end.

Dismantling and rearranging lives already lived

never gets any easier; less heartbreaking.

And yet, when given the options,

moving, starting over at the end

is better than hearing, "They're gone."

Because of love, the move's orchestrated,

the worries lessen a bit more.

Others care and monitor, feed, bathe.

And all that's left to do

is love until the last move.

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Unexpected Joy

Piles of boxes have surrounded me

All summer long, in many forms.

Ten long weeks. Five longer days...

Checklists miles long, endless errands run.

Time shrinking away as I prepare:

my mind, my home, my room;

for a new crop of brains, smiles.

The greatest unexpected joy this week:

mountains of empty boxes, abandoned outside

the gleaming neatness of my classroom.

Tasks accomplished, tools ready, tasks completed:

my mind, my home, my room;

awaiting my new students with joy,

with unexpected ease, speed and enthusiasm,

even after seventeen years of unpacking!

Unexpected insights, visitors?  Unexpected news, joy?  Share with us!  Visit Melissa and find out about Six Word Fridays!

Motherhood: Trial and Error

Do this, with one child: success.

Try that, with another: epic fail.

Improvisation with child three: inevitable split.

Mothering is a series of experiments,

Some great, some small, some crazy.

But all carefully cultivated with love.

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Sweetness

Skinny, braided pigtails, adorned with ribbons.

Golden curly halo, crowning mischievous eyes.

Resounding choruses of pealing laughter, echoing.

Life gave me three lively boys.

My sister gave me two nieces.

Two beloved little cherubs to adore,

Two precious examples of girly sweetness.

Two girls, three boys, five cousins.

How could life be any sweeter?

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Love's Threads

Love's taken many forms for me:

My little sister's hand in mine,

her adult shoulder to cry on.

A handsome, green eyed young man

who now likes to disguise himself

as a nearing middle-age, graying father.

Three newborn baby boys, so tiny;

now parade as strapping young men.

I've caught a glimpse of Love,

it's ever changing forms and stories.

And I am grateful for how

Love's silken threads have carefully embroidered

the tapestry of this: my life.

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Well Paid, Infinitely Wealthy

Job description notes endless days, nights.

Dirty faces and behinds, whining, complaining.

Rumbling, hungry tummies to be filled.

Injustices to be righted with conviction.

Armed with Mommy's Childrearing Playbook,

tasks are rarely completed as desired.

On days I need it most,

payday is an unimaginable windfall.

Currency: Hugs, kisses, squeals and smiles.

It makes "All About the Benjamin's"

turn an envious shade of green.

I doubt millionaires are this rich.

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