It’s no secret that I adore Sherri and her blog, Old Tweener.
Sherri is the mother I hope to be someday and she writes the way I hope to write someday. Her words are moving and eloquent, pull at my heart strings and make me appreciate every moment I have right now with Lucas. She reminds me that childhood is fleeting and children grow up way too fast.
I am thankful that I can call Sherri a friend and I am so pleased to have her here today with a beautiful letter to herself on the day she became a mother.
May 28, 1994
Dear Sherri,
Today was an amazing day in your life: the day you became a mother for the first time. We haven’t met yet, but we have a lot to talk about.
You see, I am the mother you will be after almost 18 years of parenting.
That baby boy in your arms right now seems so fragile, so helpless, and incredibly needy. Don’t worry; you’ll figure him out pretty quickly. In time, you will get to know him so well that you can almost read his mind.
Until he’s a teenager, anyway.
Once he starts talking, he will rarely stop. In fact, many of your days with him will seem like one very long question. But please listen to him, answer his questions as best you can, and really try to soak up these moments when he’s so chatty and inquisitive.
Even when you want to stock up on earplugs and convince him that the dog is smart enough to answer his science questions.
Because when he moves on to college one day his words will be few. A funny text every few days, maybe a phone call on Sundays; his voice deep and full of joy.
And you will be glad you listened when you did.
Kiss him and hug him; tickle his little feet and hold his chubby little hands. Blow some raspberries on his round little tummy and nibble on his soft baby neck.
Once he’s too old for this you will wish you’d done it more.
When he’s older, hugs will be replaced by high-fives and pats on the back, at least in public.
Those eighteen years will pass in a heartbeat or two.
Today in the hospital, as you hold that sweet little bundle in your arms I realize it’s hard to understand this part. But your job as his mother is to make yourself obsolete. Nurture him, teach him, and love him relentlessly.
But prepare to let him go.
And then do it.
Because when you do send him off to college one day he will be fine on his own. He will be able to solve his own problems; right his wrongs, make decisions, and find his own way.
And he’ll be so ready for it.
You will be fine, too…trust me, I know this for a fact now.
So get back to learning how to be a mother, how to read his cries, and what he needs from you. Be patient because it’s going to take some time.
But it’s going to seem like it took no time at all.
Love,
Sherri
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Oh, I adore Sherri. All of her words touch so close to home. It’s almost as if she could read my thoughts.
And yes, cherish the sweet toddler days. Childhood is so fleeting. The same little round faces I used to tuck in bed every night are now teenagers who pretend not to need me at all.
Great post Sherri! Wow what a great letter. They do grow up so fast don’t they. I love the part that you wrote about you being ok. Great picture too. You looked so happy.
Oh Sherri, everything you write needs to be in an anthology for every new parent. Just beautiful.
I need to remember these words everyday with my kids.
That was beautiful. I need to remember this. I know that it goes by so quickly and I need to soak up every moment with them.
Oh Tonya, thank you so much for inviting me over here today! Your words are very sweet…
Beautiful letter Sherri!!!
Gorgeous letter Sherri.
Oh Sherri (hey isn’t a song??? From about the time he was born??)
This hit me right in the chest, it is little moments like this, I read something and I know I must take it in. I MUST stop and file this, remember it and try my best to emulate it.
You are an incredible mom, and I am so happy that now as your son is away at college you can share those moments with us…to help impart that knowledge and let us know that you blinked and it was here…so we should try not to miss it anymore than we are.
Your words were gorgeous, your voice gentle talking to yourself and true. Thanks for being such an inspiration for all of just starting out on this journey of motherhood.
That picture: PURE PERFECTION!!!
I love Sherri’s blog… I love when I see an email telling me that there’s a new post. I always open it right away.
This letter is incredible and brought tears to my eyes. So often we let life get in the way of the little things in life and all to soon life has passed us by.
Oh crying buckets right now. I knew that was going to happen as soon as I saw Sherri’s name at the top of this post. Beautiful.
This gave me goosebumps. So beautiful. And makes me want to freeze time.
Oh Sherri, I am crying. This is so gorgeous, and you are truly such a guide for people (like me!) with younger children, trying to find our way. You’re an inspiring writer and mother 🙂
Sherri:
I swear you do this just for me.
I know it.
Every day I think of my 16 and 14 yr old, and how I can now see on a calendar when they’ll be gone.
I don’t want to be desperate, but lately..I just want to hug them and look at them and let them know how much they are my life.
I know this, Sherri..and I thank you for how you stand in front of me, nodding, that it’s OK to just love on them a little bit more right now.
Just as much as when they were first put in my arms.
New moms: you have to listen to this. It’s true, no one expects to be a mom of big kids…but it happens.
To all of us.
Seriously Sherri, you had to go and make me a blubbering mess this morning?
I don’t think I am ready for the let go part – but I see it coming already! Great letter Sherri.
My brother was the same way – never would shut up as a kid and then puberty hit, and he clammed up. My mom jokes he got all his talking in as a child.
Oh my. Another one that tugs at the heartstrings. As the mother of an 11 year old, going on 18, I am nowhere near ready to let her go, and already regret that I didn’t tickle her more, listen more. Nice reminder that MORE is always good enough 🙂 Thank you.
Oh Sherri. I have tears streaming down my cheeks. This was so beautiful, so poignant. What a wonderful, wonderful letter.
Now excuse me while I go blow my nose and try to assure my co-worker that I’m not dealing with a tragedy.
Dear Sherri,
I just kept thinking. Damn, I need to have more children. And then I realized I’ll have to do right by my grandchildren the day they arrive. Wish I could go back and parent with the wisdom of my 16 years under my belt, but that’ s how it works. Dumb system isn’t it?
Dana
Now I want to go grab my little ones and kiss and hug the heck out of ’em. Funny that they are all at “school” right now. Guess I’ll have to do it this afternoon when I pick them up.
If only we had these words from the very beginning.
LOVE that photo Sherri!!!
Oh Sherri.
What an amazing direction to take this series of letters for you. And this comes as no surprise. Because you are amazing.
It is the most surreal truth that we say these words over and over to others but every mother has to live them for herself to really understand:
“it’s going to seem like it took no time at all.”
Indeed.
How can so much “wonderful” be crammed into no time at all?
It seems impossible.
And yet…
oh oh oh
that is all.
I was sniffling all along, but this pushed me over the edge:
“Kiss him and hug him; tickle his little feet and hold his chubby little hands. Blow some raspberries on his round little tummy and nibble on his soft baby neck.Once he’s too old for this you will wish you’d done it more.”
Gorgeous letter, my friend. You are such an inspiration to me. xoxo
I love this post so much, it had to be stumbled.Sherri really does have a way with words and now I’m here crying because even thought my girls are only 4 & 6 the letting go has already begun:(
I think I need to print this out and keep it somewhere I will see it daily. I am more than halfway there with my son and I can just FEEL deep inside my soul that the days are numbered where he lights up with pure love and innocence when he sees me.
*sigh*
BAAWWWWHHHHLLLL..that’s me crying!! This is so beautiful and perfect. It’s how I feel about my little guy…the first year flew by…and I know it’s going to just get faster.
I had to give my kids raspberries this morning after reading this.
Yes, I heard someone say once that as soon as you give birth it really is the beginning of slowly, always learning to let go. 🙁 Beautiful letter.
Oh this was just lovely. It’s so hard at this time to really imagine Lucas as an 18 year old heading off to college. Yikes! But it will happen eventually. I also can’t imagine not cuddling, kissing and hugging him whenever I see him. He better just get used that! I’m ALWAYS going to do all that! haha 🙂
How adorable are you in that picture? And the baby too, of course.
But thank you, as always, Sherri, for making your reader slow down and appreciate motherhood as it happens.
Beautiful post.
Oh the happy tears. I’m watching this boy to man transition at my house now. The nine year old will only show physical affection when no one is looking while the 3 and 5 and 7 year olds are still jumping up for hugs and kisses and more and more and more love. This is a good reason for sibs, they each make you appreciate themselves and the others at the same time. Thanks to you both for giving us this glimpse into the sweetness of now and the sweetness of later.
Perfect letter, and I love the photo. Joy, and love, and a little doubt on her face, which I now know to be wise.
Oh Sherri, you are killing me. With one little boy as a toddler and another one that will soon be here, I am in tears over this post.
I know our job is to raise them so they don’t need us, but I hate seeing it out there in front of my face. But it’s necessary.
Every time Eddie says he can do something himself something in me crumbles, but at the same time, a triumphant trumpet sounds too.
Sigh.
Your write with such ease.
This was one of the most beautiful posts I’ve read.
So touching and perfectly true.
Oh my gosh, I am in tears! As someone who is contemplating those ear plugs right now, I also realize that all too soon, I will be at my son’s locked bedroom door, begging to be let in. I LOVE this letter.
Love this, Sherri. Just love it. It’s perfect.