Wednesday, February 17, 2010

the lack of privacy


can you see what this is?



if you guessed that it is my almost 1 year old daughter's chubby fingers reaching under the bathroom door,

you are right.

leah is in this phase where she follows me everywhere. there are times when this can be extremely frustrating...



like during mornings when caleb starts talking at the crack of dawn and doesn't stop. (even when...no, especially when i am on the phone. butting into all of my conversations. who is that, mom? they want to go where? what's wrong with their car? why are they taking it to the shop? and doesn't stop until i have answered all of his questions, or i just end up quickly getting off of the phone in exasperation.)

during afternoons when i have washed my fourth load of laundry for the day and see the looming pile of clean clothes looking at me on my bed (enter maniacal laundry laughing at me here.)

or evenings when both kids are falling apart at the same time, being hungry....tired...stinky & needing baths...and i actually at times break into a sweat for pretty much an entire hour of non-stop go! go! go!

or sunday mornings when i'm trying to get ready for church and not only are my kids crawling all over me, taking my hair brush. or picking up my make-up. or ruining my deoderant. and then feeling so guilty they burst into tears. but my husband decides to come into the bathroom and take a picture of me rinsing with mouthwash, and out comes this beauty:





or just for those times,



when all i want is

one

minute

to

myself.



but most of the time,

i said MOST,

i actually like that leah does this. that for the one minute that i have to myself, i have to set her across the room and try to distract her with toys, only to hear her just seconds later outside the door. banging, and yelling "ma ma maaaaa" and see her little chubby fingers under the cracks of the door.

because i know this will not last. soon she will become more independent and desire my company less. she will learn more words from the english language. words such as, oh how about, i wish you weren't my mom anymore! spoken by her older brother just a few days ago. (why do we teach them to speak again? remind me.)

it is an exhausting but rewarding time of life. one that teaches me patience, and selflessness, and the healthy kind of selfishness (you know, asking for something before you break down and set fire to that pile of laundry. that sort of thing.)

before i know it, i will have all the time in the world to exercise whenever i want to. whenever i want to! that i can shower without having to time it with leah's naps. that i can go through the grocery store without having to teach my talkative 4 year old the "quiet game" because his endless chatter has made me forget what i am making for dinner that night.

even though those things sound nice (well, fantastic really) right now, i know i will miss these times. when i am followed, begged, hugged, pinched, kissed, chased, smacked. when i am a teacher, a chef, a maid, a nurse, a comforter, a lecturer a snuggler.


a mother.


well, i will always be that. :)



but when the days come that i forget what this stage looks like,
her little fingers under the bathroom door,




or her little diapered bum helping slam the door open the second i turn the doorknob,





or her happy face when she is able to accomplish her goal and once again be in the presence of her mom,





well.

i'm glad i will have pictures to remember these moments.

8 comments:

Jake, Jill, Jenna said...

my favorite part is that you had your camera in the bathroom with you. hehe! great post - so true.

Rachel Chick said...

I hear ya, Lyns! :) I love it too. As frustrating as it is . . . Sadly, it's usually the oldest one that takes the brunt of my "exploding" -- but I can genuinely relate to having a chatter box that can. not. shut. up. I often have to ask her if she can have some quiet time to herself so that I can think in my own head. Grocery stores, phone conversations, mornings, and (some) car rides, I like to be alone in my brain. Sometimes I feel so bad for telling her to be quiet . . . I hope that she always wants to talk to me as much as she does now . . . sigh. I liked your post. I loved seeing those cubby little fingers. I think very few moms have that coveted thing called privacy. I suppose it's the price we pay to also be there for all the good times and not at work instead. :)

K Harker said...

I LOVED this post! I think any mother knows exactly what this feels like. I love my alone time but I try to remind myself that these stages don't last long with my kids and before I know it, I will be missing those things I once was annoyed with. You captured my thoughts completely on this one.

The Hunter's said...

You are such a great writer. It is all so true. And you didn't leave anything out!

The Foster Bunch said...

Thanks for the reminder how precious those moments are. We had that yesterday when our two year old decided he did not want to ride in the stroller or walk on his own at Disney World. No he wanted to be carried. Like you said soon this stage will end, and they will want nothing to do with us. Remember to live in the moment. If we just could!!!!

Garry and Mindy said...

I love it!!! Leah is starting to look a lot like you Lynsey! I don't mind the so much following me around, but it is REALLY difficult to change the laundry with two little boys playing in the dryer while I'm trying to fill it! Or when Ellie just really needs some attention, but so do two little boys. And why does it always happens at the same exact time?!

Fawn Becker said...

I hear ya sista!! I am never in the bathroom alone :( Love that little Leah!! You guys must come over soon. Oh and I still have not heard from Simone yet about the sale.

ohmylanta said...

I was thinking the same thing just the other day while I was cuddling my sweet baby girl. They just grow up too fast. Why can't they just stay sweet and squishy? What's sad is that sometimes I look at pictures of my first babies and I can hardly remember them like that. They require so much motherly effort that those years end up being a blur.