This motherhood thing is hard. Some days feel like we are just trying to make it to nap time, or at least a nice long quiet rest and if that doesn’t happen, then bedtime. And then there’s the guilt, always the guilt, but also the love.
We should all be so lucky to live to see 60 and if we do, we will be much wiser than we are today, won’t we? We’ll know for certain that we always did our best and that our best was good enough.
Here is what my friend Jamie of Chosen Chaos will tell herself when she gets there.
Jamie is a wonderful writer and I have no doubt, mother as well.
Over at my place people are always talking to their younger selves. Imposing words of wisdom that we all know good and well we wouldn’t have listened to if we had the chance. In truth, I think the writing experience is a lesson to our current selves. A lesson to appreciate what our past has provided us today. I think I am currently living in the place every person longs to be, my present. When we are young all we want to do is grow up. When we are older all we want to do is go back to when our kids were babies. At least that’s what I hear and read all the time. So this letter is to me, the 60-year-old me.
Dear Me,
I’m writing to you from the living room in the hood that took five years to furnish. Surrounded by Trio blocks that didn’t get put away, a pink polka-dot stroller and a giant green Fisher-Price dinosaur push-toy. It’s rest time. Biggest is resisting, Middle is enjoying, and the girls are breathing deep. It’s a beautiful spring day. The clematis that refuses to die is reaching for the sun, the knock-out roses are overtaking the deck and the grass in that one spot still has not grown back. Do you remember this snap-shot? This is the time of day your life mostly revolves around. The rest-time time. The re-energize time. The reset, redo, reboot button. Whatever happened before this hour can be erased away with just a pinch of solitude. Whatever happens after this… well the goal is now just to get to dinner, get to when Babe is home, and get to bedtime. We work in small chunks right now!
The moments I remember from even just last year are so few and far between. Life is happening so fast and yet bedtimes can’t come soon enough more days than not. I am not wishing away this place in time and I am in no hurry to get to you at the third-phase in our life. People ask me all the time (truly, ALL the time) how do you do it? Truth, I have no idea. I don’t have time to sit and think about how I do it. I’m assuming at 60 maybe I will, have the time that is. If that is the case I want to be sure I/you keep something in mind. Over time memories have a tendency to cloud reality.
Keep in mind that you are doing it. Every day you are doing it. The best way you can. You wake up, serve a warm breakfast to four beautiful growing children and you don’t stop. You drop-off, pick-up, squeeze, change diapers, encourage, scold, wipe noses, yell, laugh, and repeat. All day. Every day. You try your best every day. Sometimes, unfortunately, your best is just not good enough. One of the harder lessons you’ve learned about being a Mommy. Please do not spend any time wishing you had done more, played more, laughed more, hugged more… you are doing it, all of it. Every day.
It’s hard for the me that’s writing this to imagine the little people being 27, 30, and 32… what must they be like? Who have they turned out to be? I hope they are coming home to visit soon. I miss them and I’m not even you yet.
Times up. Feet are scurrying. Princess B is yelling “Mama”. Bedtime countdown starts now.
Love,
Yourself
Related Posts:
This is awesome! My day is in chunks too. Get to lunch. Get to quiet time. Get to bedtime. Doing the best you can is all that can be accomplished 🙂
Thank you Stephanie! Chunks seem more attainable, right?!
Thank you for having me today Tonya!
I think your 60 year old self will look back on those days that ate now with fondness, gratitude, pride & laughter. You really do “get” this journey that is life & I so enjoy following it!
Thanks Meg, such a sweet comment!
I completely live in chunks right now. And am wishing away these weeks like you wouldn’t believe. I am desperate for it to be 6 months from now but your post made me think. All too soon it will be 6 months from now and all too soon I will be 60. Will try and cherish this time more, even if it does suck right now!
Great post JW. Xx
And so much happens in 6 months, right? Right now is especially HARD to live in the moment for you I know. Maybe start in a couple of weeks! XO
Really a cool idea! And neat to see what you would say…I’m wondering how the age you are right now shapes those words? 60 is less than a dozen years away for me. My kids will be 14 through 24. I can absolutely see myself there. And them. Doing your best and no regrets…a life to be proud of…a life worth living 🙂
I totally agree. I’m 33 so only a little over half-way there. I remember being in high school and thinking 30 was SO old. I don’t think 60 seems old at all. I look forward to aging actually. thanks for visiting me here!
“I hope they are coming home to visit soon. I miss them and I’m not even you yet.”
Thank you for reminding me that I’ll miss this time – the time when I was surviving from nap time to bedtime!!
Thinking Biggest being taller me is almost too much for my heart to handle. But he will be and I hope I don’t miss patting the top of his buzz cut!
I wish time stood still sometimes and yet it goes by too quickly, even when I am exhausted & feel overwhelmed I try to remind myself this reality (30 yrs from now) is right around the corner! 😉
Before we know it, right? Thanks Kate!
What a beautiful letter to the future. It seems every time I turn around, the children have grown – yet again – and I am left wondering where the time is going. As busy as it is right now, I wouldn’t wish it away, either.
I’m very fortunate to have a good friend and neighbor who’s children are gone and leaving. I watch her struggle through that and squeeze mine a little tighter. Thank you for the comment!
That last line – missing them and you aren’t even her yet? That’s exactly it. Great reminder that this time flies by.
It does, before we even realize it. Thanks Kim.
oh Jamie, that was simply beautiful…and I love how you took the letter idea that you have changed us with and used it yourself. It was a brilliant idea and your words…well I could see you, hurrying to finish, trying to appreciate the quiet time before it ends and it was lovely to look in on your day.
The end about missing them already, is how I feel most days too…you’re not even 4 and 1/2 yet but sometimes I miss you already. SO BEAUTIFUL.
xox
It’s so easy to imagine what that must feel like but impossible at the same time. Thanks for finding me over here!
I know what you mean about missing them already. I miss my teenagers already, even though they aren’t gone yet. The house is so quiet sometimes – because they’re off with their friends or at school activities. More incentive not to wish it all away so fast…
You had a picture of the oldest and John was so tall and I got all weepy about my biggest being taller than me… how does that happen?!?
The “future” kids, that’s what intrigues me the most. I, sometimes, fear that not good outcome is to see, but then I try to remain calm and positive.
It’s fun to imagine…one Princess is such a little engineer and the other likes to brush her hair and tackle her brothers. They can become anything they want!
Oh, yes. I definitely live in chunks now, and just PRAY that I get done what I need to get done in each chunk. If not, maybe I’ll just let it bleed over. Or try the next day.
I can just picture your spot outside. Lovely.
The dust waits for you, however long it takes!
This is such a smart idea and I think that it would be good for me to write my 60 year old self a letter too one of these days.
Oh thank you Leah. I think my 60 year old self may actually listen if she got this!