Thursday, September 2, 2010

I Hope You Know

It was after she had poured a bowl of tomato soup on her head and after I had cleaned it off with a questionably smelling dish rag that I lifted her up to help stir the cake batter. Evan was up on the chair too and he marveled at how robotically fast I could whir the batter around into a whirlpool with nothing more than a whisk and my mom muscles. Evan and Jemma took turns back and forth stirring, and I devised a little song to let them know how long their turn was - hoping one would not claw off the other's face in impatience.

"Oh yes we're stirring,
stirring,
stirring up the cake" (repeated 3x's)

There was a moment when my hand was over Jemma's helping her to stir while I was singing that she looked at me with complete amusement and joy. Time stopped. My heart squeezed. It was a perfect mom moment that you pray happen more often. (As opposed to those mom moments you cringe over and cry in the closet about.) It got me to thinking. She likely won't remember anything about this day.

She won't know that she has some special anus radar that causes her to poop at the exact moment I'm late to leave for somewhere important. She won't know how tired I am of reading that blasted ladybug book over and over, but I do it anyway because she loves it so much. She'll never know that when she is sick I check for fever against her forehead with my lips because it seems like the most temperature sensitive thing to do. She won't remember every tiny fingernail I clipped or song I've sung while she clings to wakefulness against my chest.

But someday, she'll be a happy grown woman. It will be the drops of my love in the bucket of her being that make her so.

When I die and am in heaven, I want certain things to happen. I want to know who killed JFK. I want my husband to know what 3 months of pregnancy nausea really does to you. (I fantasize about the day he falls at my knees and thanks me for the combined 9 months of misery I went through to give him babies.) And I want my children to magically comprehend how ridiculously I loved them.

If Evan turns out to be some sweaty, wife-beater wearing butt scratcher, I swear I'll stick my head in the garbage disposal and flip the switch myself. Motherhood is too much work to have it blow up in my face. My biggest hope for them honestly, is that they have the opportunity to love a little child the way that I get to love them. That will tweak their souls in the way I think God wants them tweaked. Making people. Caring for them. It is one crazy ride. Can I get an amen?

18 comments:

i said...

amen!!! ;) lovely. just lovely.

The Whites said...

Thanks for sharing this, it made me cry, you are a really good writer by the way!!
Connie

thebealsfamily said...

Love this post. Love all your posts. This one almost made me want more children. Almost ;)

Cyndi said...

Amen GMA! AMEN! I love you sister!

Anna said...

You put my feelings into words. I never know how to, and I love reading your thoughts. Thanks! And yes, you saw me right that day...a little teary. I tried not to look at you guys because I knew it was comin. :)

lilsusha said...

Angie, we are more alike than you'll ever know! SERIOUSLY!

Lisa said...

That was beautiful!

Tiff said...

anus radar! hilarious... I think we have some kids with anus radar over here too! I truly enjoy every blog post you write... you have a gift. Thanks for sharing your gift with us!

Kacey Nielsen said...

I will have an insanely difficult time not smacking my children upside the head if they turn into below par adults. But picturing Evan at his current size sitting in front of a dinky log cabin, with dirty, sweat stained wife beater, exposed rear and fingers hard at work satisfying an itch... well it's a humorous one to say the least :)

Amen, sista

Chris and Kara said...

Amen! And thanks for a beautiful reminder of why we do it all! I am aching all over with this baby and I need the reminder that it really is all worth it. Thanks for being such a gifted writer and sharing your pearls like "anus radar." Really love that one cause it's so true!

Mrs. Veloz said...

Amen! And, I adore you and feel every emotion and agree so deeply!

"M" Clan said...

Amen sista, brought on the tears! ♥

Dawn + Ryan said...

I love the moments when you catch yourself singing those little songs that neither rhyme nor consist of more than a 3 word sentence describing exactly what you are doing at the moment (repeated over and over, as stated, of course). I also love the realization that it is most often in order to avoid something very tragic as "scratched eyes". But then the Kodak moment always comes as you described and the moment burns into your memory. Oh the truth in this post...I guess I could have just said, "amen" :) Love ya!

Sam said...

I love the visual of you sticking your head in the garbage disposal and flipping the switch. Such great imagery in your writing. Thanks for a great read to start my day. I love your wit and straight forward Angie-isms. Amen to motherhood.

Michelle said...

AMEN!!!! Ditto to EVERY SINGLE word!! So perfectly expressed.

(I also long for the day that my husband comprehends the depth and breadth of the misery I suffered to bring our children into the world, as selfish as that is!)

Cara @ Angelshoes said...

So true, with such spunk! Lovin it!

Catina said...

Oh my gosh. What a great way to start my day. I really hope Evan won't become a wife beater wearing butt scratching dude too. That would just be too much. This actually inspired me to hop off the computer right now and read to Crewdy Dewdy (who calls himself such now) who yes, woke up at 4 a.m. again this morning.

Mary said...

amen!