Raising children is some serious shit. It's hard, difficult work that tests your patience in ways you never knew, like working muscles you never knew you had during that first Pilates class. I am still amazed that a tiny little person (in Jack's case, not so tiny, he's already more than half as tall as I am) can create ways to push your buttons in ways even your husband hasn't figured out yet...boggles my mind. Adding a serious, life-threatening illness to the pot is like adding some sriracha to a bowl of cayenne pepper soup - it just adds fuel to an already heated situation, and I am in no way proud to say that I have taken my emotions out on them at times over this past year - I've snapped and yelled at times much louder and more often than I should have. I pray and pray that some of those memories get lost in the ether.
But beyond the frustrations and madness of raising children is truly an awe-inspiring space, a place where time both stops and careens forward. I know other parents see their children growing up and want desperately to push the pause button...but I, warranted or not, feel like I'm sprinting, holding their hands and dragging them along, because I want to see everything that they do, I want to see all of the years and the events and growing and the stumbling and the successes and the failures. I want to see and touch and breath it all and I feel like I have to do IT RIGHT NOW. But I can't, so I take every day, and though I may lose it sometimes and I will most definitely never be the perfect mama, I dole out copious amounts of hugs and kisses, and breathe in these beings who for whatever reason were crazy enough to choose me to pass through.
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