I'm a multitasking writer/mom to multiple multi-ethnic little ones, via multiple routes to parenthood. Just call me Multimom!

Call Your Mother

on April 27, 2012

I keep meaning to start with this big long post about our journey through infertility, adoption, and IVF that led us to these two absolutely fabulous babies:

But I’m just not feeling it.  I think because, these days, I’m so much in the thick of parenting after infertility that the 5 years of struggle just aren’t what I’m in the mood to write about.  I will get to that, I’m sure, since we are not finished having babies and it will never be easy for us, and I will always be an infertile lady who gets her hackles up when someone gloats about being “super fertile, tee hee!”  But for now, I’d like to start things off with a post in a series I’d like to call “Lessons From My Kids.”

Lesson 1: Call Your Mother

My baby girl is happy as long as she is near me.  If I’m holding her, looking at her, or at least within arm’s reach, she is perfectly cheerful and calm.  And I’ll be honest–while this does make working or playing with my son or doing pretty much anything but cuddling her a challenge, I really don’t mind.  Because with an almost-3-year-old boy who used to give me slobbery kisses all the time and now, if I’m lucky, sort of air-kisses before running off to his next adventure, I know how fleeting this dependency is.  I know how much I will miss our long, snuggly days–sleep deprivation and all–when she is older.  I miss it already with my son, and he’s just in preschool a couple of days a week, and with me constantly otherwise.

Which brings me to my point–I have not lived in the same state as my parents since I left for college 14 years ago.  I’ve been halfway across the country from them for 10 of those years–1 in New York and the last almost-9 (how is that possible?!) in Los Angeles.  My mom and I were super-close (and of course, in the preteen/teen years, sometimes at each other’s throats) when I was growing up, an only child raised primarily by a single mom.  I’m sure, in the midst of my childhood, it never occurred to her that this person she had created would one day be so far away.

But I think about it all the time.  I hope that my babies will never move so far that I only get to see them once or twice a year.  My hope is that they will be so used to sunny California that they won’t be able to stand living anywhere else, and thus will have to stay here (my Midwestern home didn’t have quite the same draw).  Looking at their sweet faces, snuggling up with their warm little bodies beside me, I can’t imagine what it was like for my parents when I moved away for good.

And that’s why I want to remind you all to call your mom (or dad, or other parental figure), as often as you can handle and then maybe a little bit more.  I know that once these little ones take off into the wide world, I won’t be able to get enough of hearing from them and seeing them, not ever, not when I’ve gotten so used to having them always within reach.  What I’ve learned is that I will always be my parents’ baby, just as these babies will always be mine, no matter how old they are or how far they roam.  One day, they’ll be walking around in the world, with jobs and houses and spouses and kids, and they’ll be thinking of themselves as adults and I will respect that and be amazed by it, and yet I will always see their soft baby cheeks and rosebud lips and pudgy little elbows and ankles, like the ones on my baby girl as she snoozes beside me right now.  I will always remember how they much they need me now, and I will be proud to have raised them to be adults who do not need me so desperately–and yet, I will always want to know that they do still need me, at least a little.  I bet your mom would like to know that, too.


One response to “Call Your Mother

  1. Connie says:

    So glad to see a post from you. The kids are PRECIOUS !!

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