Head rolling side to side, she begins to whimper. I hear her and wait, trying to pick the perfect time to go to her. Too early and she’ll still be asleep; she’ll moan and shriek. Too late and she’ll be frustrated and angry. If I hit my mark, she’ll wake up happy and cheerful.

I hear someone else call my name and by the time I’ve gotten back, I’ve missed my window. She’s terribly cranky. Arms stretching out, I pick her up. Appeased for a moment, she nestles into her favorite spot but my necklace scratches her face and she throws back her head nearly toppling both of us over. I put her down, but that’s wrong, too. She wants milk! No…juice! No…milk! Really she wants nothing at all. At least nothing from me. I discard the still-empty cup and hold her in my arms, her weight a reminder that she’s not a baby anymore.

Knowing this may take a while, I flop down on the floor. It doesn’t even matter that we’re in the kitchen. Her cries ebb and flow because even she isn’t sure how she feels. (I’m the same way when I wake).

She snuggles in and catches a few soft snores. “Just one more minute, Mom,” I imagine her teenage self mumbling from beneath a pile of blankets. The girl does love a good blanket. (I do, too).

I rub my fingers gently across her back and she bucks if I stop. She periodically rubs my arm in rhythm with my strokes back and forth on her back and legs.

There’s so much I should be doing. There are so many other things that need to be done. Dishes. Laundry. Dinner. And yet I sit on the kitchen floor with a baby-no-more, tears in my eyes and hers.

Babies don’t keep, I think. Babies don’t keep.

The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
For children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.
~Ruth Hulburt Hamilton

I don’t always get it right, but this time I’m pretty sure I did.

They’d been working hard with the promise that if they finished everything before Daddy got home then I’d buy the new Sofia the First soundtrack. They were getting close to their goal and the excitement was infectious. We were all working frantically and we even cheered when the last toy was put away. The big two crowded around me, waiting for those first notes. We turned it up as loud as it would go and we all began to sing along.

When it moved to the second track, I reminded Carter to go to his room and get his things together for his overnight lock-in at church. The girls and I danced along to words that step beyond come-save-me-prince-charming princess lyrics. “I can do anything…You can be anything…And I know with you by my side it’ll be a better ride…”

As we swished and swayed around the room I looked over to see him in my chair, half covered with his pillow and a bag of Cheese-Its. Holding my hand out, he shook his head no. No, he didn’t want to dance. I never missed a beat, but my heart missed a few.

See, he’s always been the first to swirl around with me. He’s always been the one who laughed when I tried very unsuccessfully to tango. He’s always been the one who joined right in. And now…he’s not. I could almost see it on his face, this struggle between boy and man:
I love this episode!
Yeah, but she’s a princess. Boys don’t like princess stuff.
But this song. It’s one of my favorites.
Really? Sounds kinda girly to me.
Maybe just one dance with my mom.
And it was there that the little boy won. He took my hand and we swayed a bit. Then he cried “Up! Up!” like he did as a little baby, and I perched his too long legs on my hips and danced and danced. His head resting on my shoulder, I squeezed a little tighter than I should have and tears prickled in my eyes. He sang and I swirled, arms aching with his full weight upon them. I wished the song to go on just a little longer and couldn’t help it when a few tears spilled over. Biting my lip, I set him down and turned my face away.

Brushing away bittersweet tears, my heart ‘swole’ up and my mind flushed with thoughts of now and then and later. A baby in my arms, not quite normal but perfect none-the-less. A toddler rattling off big words with a little boy sound. A boy stretching out towards double digits, but still cuddling with his Mama. But as I began to think of what is to come, I had to force a stop. Instead of looking forward, I soaked up every ounce of now that I could and tucked it away. A day may come when I need this moment again: when my big little boy danced with me for the last time in the living room.

Another first last. I think maybe I’m turning into a collector of those.

When I had my first baby, I knew I wanted to breast feed. I wanted it bad and didn’t even want to consider any other option. Then he was born and latched well and did all the things he was supposed to do and it just.didn’t.work. I tried everything. Everything, I tell you. I was heartbroken. I would see other mothers with babies happily latched on and my stomach would turn. I’d get a burn in my chest that was a cross of jealousy, anger, and sadness. Not angry at that mom and baby, but jealous that I couldn’t have the same experience. And so I’d sit with my baby and his bottle and a lump in my throat.

When my second baby was born, Marshall was knee-deep in residency. We rarely saw him and when we did see him it was through a haze of sleep deprivation. Our families weren’t super far away, but they weren’t close either. And the baby screamed. A lot. Several times, in complete desperation, I packed the kiddos up and went to the store. I was that mom – the one who you think, “Get that kid outta here! No body wants to hear all that.” But I was lonely and exhausted and at my wits end, and I promise I wanted her to stop screaming as much as everyone else did.

When my third baby was born he was easy going and almost always happy but he was big. As in is-he-going-to-pop-out-of-his-skin big. He liked to eat. And he fit beautifully on the growth curve, so we weren’t worried…but some other people seemed to be. Luckily I had enough experience under my belt by then that it didn’t bother me too much.

By the time my fourth baby was born, I quit paying attention to other people all together. Not because I didn’t care (because let’s be real…we all care what others think of us) but because I can only pay attention to so many things at once. Someone could have told me that she was the ugliest baby on the planet and I wouldn’t have noticed because I would have been too busy telling the bigs to stop spitting at each other and trying to get Asa to stop eating grass.

But there are times – even some recently – that I have felt judged for my choices. When we decided to homeschool, for example. I never had any idea how many people would have such strong opinions. And when I let my babies play on the iPad. Yes, I hear you mumbling under your breath over there at the doctor’s office. Oh, my goodness gracious! When I let my kid be a little bit wild on the playground? You’d think the world was about to end if you could gage it by looks. (For the record, our playground rule is that you can be wild and crazy as long as you aren’t hurting yourself or others).

But there are other times, too. There are times when I have been the judger, when I’ve been the person rolling my eyes at your choices or lack of discipline or your demeanor. That’s the truth, ugly though it may be. The reality is that none of us know what others are dealing with. I don’t know if you haven’t slept in weeks or if you’re about to default on your mortgage or if you and your spouse are having problems or if your child is struggling with his or her own hurts and pains. I don’t know if you just found out that your dad has cancer or if you have a toothache that has been nagging you for weeks. I just don’t know. And you don’t either. And it’s time for us to all stop taking everything at face value. It’s time for me – and for all of us – to be more aware of our choices, of our actions, of our words. It’s time for us to come together and stop quibbling like children in the schoolyard about vaccinations and breastfeeding and cosleeping and whatever-the-next-big-brouhaha-happens-to-be. Now, maybe more than ever before, we need to create a community to support us as mothers, as women, as humans. Gone are the days when proximity dictated your community, and it’s up to each of us to cultivate a group of people that provide the love and care that we crave and need.

photo credit: liivii

At Blissdom I was able to spend a little time with the folks from StrongMoms Empower. What a great initiative they have – trying to bring together moms who will support each other. (I think it’s safe to say that we could all use a little less judgment and a little more support from other moms). If you’re interested in adding your name to the list of women who pledge “to create a more supportive and less judgmental environment by empowering moms to feel good about the decisions they make for their children and their families,” just go to StrongMomsEmpower.com and sign up. You won’t get spammed nor will you get any kind of accolade, but I can attest that your promise will pop into your mind at just the right moments and maybe even remind you to offer a sympathetic smile instead of an eyeroll.

*I am participating in a blog campaign with One2One Network.
I have not received any compensation for this post.
As always, all opinions are my own.

When I told you of our little valentine dilemma, you were all quick to help.
We got cards in the mail and people rearranged plans to be with us for our after-school party.
One friend even bought an entire box of cards and sent them to school with one of her teacher friends.
The teacher let each of her students write a science fact on the card and seal it up.
The big three loved it. The little one decided that chocolate was way more interesting.

The children really wanted to do fun valentine cards/gifts, so they helped me comb Pinterest for ideas.
I was planning on doing cute little printables for each one, but they wanted to do them by hand.
Also? My children are as corny as we are. Lydia in particular.
She snorted when she saw the “You’re just WRITE for me” one.

They are so excited, they can hardly stand it!
And I must admit that – even for a girl who doesn’t really care for Valentine’s Day – today’s going to be just lovely.