A few things I love about being a mom

It’s a little late. But here’s my Mother’s Day post of the many things that ran through my brain that day. Mothering is hard work. Thankfully there are so many things that make it rewarding.

Handmade gifts on Mother’s Day are a big part of it for me. In our case their teachers had so much to do with this, from art class, to wrapping, to the notes, to the bath salts my toddler gave me.

My toddler was so excited when I picked her up Thursday, that she came running down the deck exclaiming, “I made bath salts for you!”

Toddlers are not so great at keeping surprises. It’s a talent they have – honesty. Sweet honesty.

I had to keep gently reminding her not to squish the tied up pretty gift in the purple paper, or the bath salts would go flying everywhere. She kept squishing. And mashing, and banging and enjoying the sound they made.

Sunday evening at bath time she couldn’t wait to get them out. I’m not quite sure she understood the giving part. But she was more than willing to share, which meant taking a bath together. She dumped in the salts saying, “Yeaaah bath salts with Mommy.”  I do love taking baths with my babies. It was a good thing!

My middle child made a clay pinch pot in art for me, covered in glitter and perfect in so many ways. She had it tucked away in her school bag on Friday. When I picked her up that day she was busy on the playground. And in our flurry to get everyone to go potty and into the car that was already loaded for a road trip to Georgia, the dog included, I forgot to get her bag from the extended day area.

This meant on Sunday there was a crumbled, crying, sad girl lying on the floor in a puddle of tears because her Mother’s Day gift was still at school. I felt awful. But at the same time I was touched that it meant so much to her.

Before she realized the gift would be ready in time for Mother’s Day, her older sister had given her one of her old clay works in which my middle girl wrote her name on the back and wrapped up for me. Daddy packed that one. Sweet as it is was. It wasn’t the same to her.

I knew come Monday I would love the moment when she hopped in the car and shared her gift with me. And she did. The very second she got in the car, just as I expected. Tucked inside the pinch pot was one Hershey’s Kiss. We quickly shared the treat in a moment that was made for just us. Then we rewrapped the gift to take a picture of it in her hand, minus the missing kiss.

My oldest girl is known for leaving I love Mommy notes around the house. I love this about her, and the squiggly handwriting of a child.

I love that my girls will take the green leaves from the top of a carrot, put them in a vase and place them on the dinning room table to be pretty.

I love that when my hands are full, I’m getting frustrated and my attitude is about to take a turn for the worst, my oldest daughter steps in to say, “Mom you look like you could use some help. Let me me get that for you.” And she takes something from my load – in more than just a physical context.

I love that my middle girl can make me laugh just when I need it. She is the family funny head. She often puts things into perspective for me.

I love that when I am at my wits end with nursing and I think I’m ready to close the door on this chapter of my life, my toddler makes me cherish it again. She crawls in my lap and sweetly asks to nurse without saying a word. I knew on Mother’s Day morning that she needed a moment of coddling. And maybe I needed it too.

“My milkies so special,” she said when she was finished. I love this about mothering. How my child knows just when to lead the way and get me to listen, and how I’m always thankful I did.

The last few days I’ve been thinking about mothering, and attachment parenting – in the wake of the infamous Time magazine cover with model Jamie Lynne Grumet posing with her three year-old nursing son – for the article “Are you Mom Enough? Why attachment parenting drives some mothers to extremes and how Dr. Bill Sears became their guru.”

I haven’t read the article. Because I’m not a subscriber and I’m sure not going to buy the magazine now, and support them in gaining readership through this stunt that was designed to get a knee jerk reaction and stir controversy.  But I have enjoyed reading many of the online responses.

I especially liked reading the editorial that ran on Forbes.com, by Victoria Stefanakos, titled Time Cover Milks Breastfeeding For All it’s Worth. She’s a professional writer who has nursed three-year-olds, and shares her real life experiences and opinions on the mater. She also writes the blog Project Homestead.

I read the editorial in the car on Mother’s Day, via my phone as my husband drove and we made our way back home from our weekend trip of visiting our own mothers. Stefanakos’ writing made me glad us moms are in this together. Because we shouldn’t be Mothering mom against mom. No one should have to feel mom enough.

I love when moms like Megan Francis over at The Happiest Mom speak the truth about mothering. In light of the Time cover she reposted this, “On labels and limits: why I no longer call myself an “attachment parent.”

Some of my favorite things about being a mom start with natural birth, breastfeeding, co-sleeping, baby-wearing and the things that naturally fall into “attachment parenting.” I do it because it feels right. And because it works for me.

I discovered Dr. Sears, who coined the modern parenting phrase “attachment parenting,” in a bookstore when my first baby was four months old. I wanted answers why she still nursed so much, why it was so hard for her to sleep in a crib and what I could do about it. My baby playgroup mom friends were talking about “crying it out.” I was the odd one. So when I found Dr. Sears I was relieved to read words that made sleeping with my baby seem normal.

I still listen to my mommy meter. And I trust it. I love that about mothering. And I usually love the results it brings. I hope as the girls grow older this stays true. And that the homemade notes keep coming. And the requests to share bath salts still keep happening. And the joy of sharing a piece of chocolate never gets old.

It’s these simple things I love about being a mom.