I’m Right Here

One and a half weeks ago, on a Friday afternoon that was of little consequence to many other people, my firstborn graduated from college.

We were so excited. Like the people you see celebrating the very first person in their family to graduate from college. So stupid excited. She made it. Consequently, we made it. We got pregnant, young, unmarried, naïve, and we beat a boatload of odds. To the naysayers who bet against us, we raised a girl who grew up to be a fucking bad ass. She did it. We did it.

Yeah, we’ve still got two more in process, but let me just bask in this moment…for a moment.

As the processional of graduates entered the gym, I slipped down onto the floor to take a picture of my baby girl. She walked in, and I watched her face light up as she saw her dad, her boyfriend, her siblings, and then I watched her face go blank as her mouth formed the words, “Where’s my mom?” I was literally 2 feet away from her, but she didn’t see me because she was looking up. I said, “I’m right here, Beebs!” She beamed. I took her picture, and she said, “Go! Go!” I wasn’t supposed to be on the floor.

It was another of those moments. Those physical representations of an emotional lesson I need to learn. It was my friend with her arms full of everyone else’s shit. It was my daughter not seeing what was right in front of her because she was looking up.

I spend a lot of my life looking up, overthinking, improving, seeking, reaching and a lot of times missing the beauty of what is right in front of me. I’ve spent too much time not realizing that everything I have ever wanted and more is right here.

For as long as we’ve been a family, I’ve tried to make lots of fun traditions that will turn into happy memories for my kids. While I have some treasured memories from my childhood, too many are unpleasant. One of our traditions, picking out a Christmas tree, has gotten to be rather hectic since Chloe moved out. This year, in fact, it resulted in dragging the children out of bed and into the rain, and some tears–mine–and it crossed my mind that the memory they would probably recall in adulthood was, “Remember how Mom used to freak out and drag us to get the damn Christmas tree every year?”

And I realized that the traditions were as much for me as they were for the kids. I needed to make happy memories to replace the unhappy ones. But I don’t need to force it, I just need to live. Our life is happy. Our kids are happy. It’s not perfect. It might appear to be perfect on Facebook, but for every picture where we are all smiling, there are 5 where Lily is scowling or my eyes are closed or Peyton is making a funny face. And many of the ones where we are all smiling is a result of my screaming, “CAN WE JUST TAKE ONE NICE PICTURE?”

Still…when I was a little girl dreaming of how my life would be when I grew up? I could never have conjured up a life that even compared to the glorious craziness that is our Bellville. So on today’s leg of the journey, I am reminding myself to look not up but at the blessed, silly, wonky-eyed imperfection that is right in front of me.

Now that you mention it…

Today we moved our 20-year-old daughter into a new dorm room. This is the fourth move since she left for college two years ago. She’s never come back for any extended period of time since that first move, and she’ll probably never live with us again. I still cry every time I have to say good bye to her, which this year has included goodbyes to Brazil and Taiwan in addition to Pittsburgh. You’d think I’d be getting used to it. Me too. I’m not.

On a detour through a familiar neighborhood on our way out of town, we got to visit briefly with two of the most darling women ever to grace the universe. As the lovely mom and I commiserated the whole kids growing up business, she pointed to my 7-year-old and said, “You’re so lucky to have this little one.” I know. Thank you. Right? Wow.

I’ve thought a lot of stuff since getting pregnant unexpectedly 8 1/2 years ago such as: There goes grad school. There goes my body. I’m too old for this. My poor boobs. This baby is gonna kill me. My big kids hate me. How can I be a good mom to all of them? But I never really thought until Chloe went to college that I was really lucky to get this little bonus baby.

From the time she was born, my oldest daughter has been my constant companion, soul mate and best friend. She filled a Chloe-shaped space in my heart, and I felt as if I was made to be her mom. When Peyton joined, answering my prayers and completing our perfectly symmetrical little family, I felt lucky. I have never been so in love with two people. So six years later, when it became apparent that our family wasn’t quite complete, I felt different levels of resistant, afraid, angry, and resentful … but I didn’t feel lucky.

However, in her nearly 8 years, this little chick has challenged me in ways I can’t even begin to explain. She has taught me more about myself than the library of self-help books I’ve read. She can be jarringly direct and achingly compassionate. She strolled out of my womb and wrapped her dad right around her tiny finger. She carries his heart around in a Hello Kitty purse. It’s impressive, really, because he is not that guy.

She can be bossy and whiny and smart-mouthed. And she can be cuddly and dreamy and precious. She’s a little bit like my clone, and I’m a better person for getting to watch and learn from a mini version of myself. She’s growing into a pretty cool person, and it’s interesting to watch her free from the pressure of signing her up for every sport and making sure she’s involved in a million activities.

I’m grateful for another round of prom dresses. I’m grateful for more shoe shopping and hair appointments and manicures and pedicures and even more stupid Ugg boots. I’m lucky to have more opportunities to say the right thing to ease the pain of a broken heart and remind her that other people’s opinions of her are meaningless. I’m lucky that I can remind her that pain builds strength and character. I’m lucky that she has the most amazing role models in her sister and brother. I’m lucky that I get another opportunity to raise a strong, empowered woman who will make a difference in the world.

So thank you for the reminder, my friend. I am so lucky.

Loose Connections

Last year, at this time, I was kind of waiting for my nervous breakdown to begin. Chloe was leaving for college, Lily was going to kindergarten, my mom was moving in with us, and I was turning 40.

I cried. A lot. I missed Chloe. A LOT. But life went on, as life has a way of doing, and my girls shoved off to college and kindergarten, my mom moved in, and I turned 40, but the nervous breakdown didn’t come. My precious baby boy became a teenager, and the nervous breakdown threatened again, but it didn’t come.

Recently, we spent a week in Florida celebrating my best friend’s 40th birthday, and spending time with her, I gained some perspective on 40 and life. See, my girl is a FIRECRACKER. Once, upon thinking I might have been in danger, she pulled a big knife on an even bigger guy. We were 14, and it was a kitchen knife. But the point is: She don’t play.

She is the most fun, exciting, ALIVE person I know, and if she is what 40 looks like, people will line up for that birthday. But she’s different now. Our friendship is different. She’s calm and confident. We don’t fight with people. We don’t gossip about people we don’t like. In fact, we mostly like everyone. We no longer need to go out and party to have a good time. In fact, the best times I have with her are just sitting and talking.

Similarly, my relationship with Chloe has evolved. While she still needs me to mother her in some ways, in other ways, we connect as women. Last weekend for the first time, I went shopping with both my girls, we had a great time, and no one had a meltdown.

Having such big gaps between my kids has forced me to adapt and change my mothering style to meet their unique needs. It’s hard to switch gears among parenting an adult, a teenager, and a kindergartner, and I have to try harder to listen, understand, and connect to each child at his and her level. The very few times I get it right are extremely gratifying.

Before I turned 40, I made a list of goals. While I’ve accomplished some and strive to reach more, some just don’t seem so important any more. Instead, of reaching feats, I feel guided to make deeper connections. To renew connections that have been severed for one reason or another. To replace some connections and tighten a few loose ones.

Every morning, I pray that God will lead me where He wants me to be. I pray for God to guide me, but I usually have a direction in mind. He rarely leads me in that direction. And this morning I realized that wherever I am as long as I’m loving God and loving His people, I’m right where I should be.