Eyes of Innocence

My two year old, Akeem, is beginning to feel the strain of having a new baby brother. His favorite word is "no" and he frequently "falls out," as we call it, on the floor as soon as he cannot do what it is that he wants to do. I wish that I could give him the gift of undivided attention some days. But, as any mom of multiple children knows, that is utterly impossible. There are just not enough hours to the day. My husband recently joked that he was talking to God about adding 8 hours to the day. He said he had it under control. Part of me wished it were a reality, part of me wonders why we are struggling to buy time. I am home with my kids most days of the week, and I have managed to give them each a bit of individual attention throughout the days. Some days, I am sure that i will explode from the yelling and arguing that seems to erupt from every possible situation. Other days I marvel at them; watching them explore the world. We forget the curiosity of childhood as we age. We do not remember the sheer pleasure of everything; of just playing. Of running in circles in the grass until we fell to our knees, landing face-first with the green smell of the outdoors seeping into our nostrils and our skin as we laid on the ground, trying to catch our breath through giggles. Perhaps I do remember. If I close my eyes I see the sky twirling overhead, feeling not sick but wondrous watching the clouds circle above me. My brother tugging at my arm, ready for another go.

Some days I am afraid that I will ruin these moments for my children, when I am exhausted and caffeinated, yelling or crying or both. When I overreact to the slightest fumble, when they spill juice or accidentally get toothpaste in their hair and on their shirt and in between their toes. Or poop. (That's a blog for another day). And then they apologize profusely, not because they are afraid of being yelled at, I don't think, but rather because they see when I am becoming undone. They realize the moment when it is no longer fun for me anymore, and I wish I did not have to say that I know it worries them. And rubs off on them. Leila, oh my darling. I see her repeating my behaviors. Not so much my behaviors now - I think I have become unglued far less recently. But for at least a year, it was several times a day that I felt I couldn't manage life for another moment. And I see her getting so frustrated and feeling that she can't do anything anymore...and I know her emotions because they are my own. I want to make her understand, yell at her that she doesn't have to relinquish control. Tell her that it is alright to let go, but letting go so that she can hold tightly to what really matters.

I have to tell myself the same words over and over, sometimes just so that I begin to believe in my own strength. I have to show my daughter that she must have confidence in herself. I have only just realized that this means teaching her by regaining and renewing confidence in myself. Seeing my beauty and my struggles, my strengths and my vulnerabilities.

It is for you, my dear ones, that I live.