Ephemeral

— “It’s impossible.”

Said pride

— “It’s risky.”

Said experience

— “It’s pointless.”

Said reason

— “Give it a try.”

Whispered the heart…

Phases of mommying is ephemeral.

Holding onto them— the milestones, moments and memories is like gripping sand as it slips through your fingers…

“Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives.”

— Days of Our Lives

The days feel long but the years meet you on the other side of the evolution so fast that it makes your head spin.

It’s May and I just had another Mother’s Day— the hallmark one at least—

It’s funny how there’s so much build up to someone I am and something I do every day that when it arrived, and it just felt like a Sunday, in the best way, I realized that there’s symbolism in the privilege and honor of the simplicity and magnitude of it all.

This Sunday was an “any given Sunday” kind of day— as a “#boysmommy” the reference has multiple meanings. It’s another opportunity for me to partake in the same things I did yesterday and will again tomorrow and live in the today.

I distinctly remember the day, years ago, when I peed on that stick— twice— and the word PREGNANT came across the small window and it was so matter-of-fact… but in that moment that word was all I knew about being a mother myself. Before that I was only mothered in the most incredible ways by my mother…

In that moment — my mommy moment— twice—it was the first time I became someone else, something more, someone else’s someone that the simplicity and magnitude of my “Mothers Days” began— and ironically neither one fell on a Sunday.

Little did I know then what I kinda know now— Fuck those specific annual Sundays! The real magic is in those random days that I didn’t know could feel more like Mother’s Day and would prove what was there all along — that my children and our moments, milestones and memories are the direct result of the wicked combination of the love, science and magic they are made from.

My children are my children and I am their mommy all the time.

I know this because I felt them from the inside out — first.

A privilege.

An honor.

Even when their belly kicks felt like the entire universe must have felt it, too, it was really just us— just me and my baby boys— our inside joke— literally... The kind of thing only you and your bestie can laugh at and no one understands or has to for that matter because it’s yours to share— alone and together.

A privilege.

An honor.

For each baby boy I had two different feelings. Each time I felt them for the first time it was when I first knew I was their mommy and we were connected. Our bond was distinctly unique just like them. And those moments weren’t only going to fall on a Sunday but in the idle moments when things shifted and evolved.

The month of May is also officially butterfly season again in my boys classrooms— how apropos to the timing of things this month. For the past two Mays I have not looked at caterpillars and butterflies the same way I did for years before. Just like the phases of mommying is ephemeral so is their evolution.

When they came home from school with the news of their new classroom creatures they discussed with me the stages of becoming a butterfly and how to care for them. Their observations and understanding were so tender and genuine. The simplicity and magnitude of them knowing that becoming is just as important as what comes before. Yet it’s so interesting to me while listening to them share I could see that as my boys mature so does their appreciation of how ephemeral life is.

And so do I…

I in turn discussed symmetry and metamorphosis with them and how to care for them at each stage.

And, even though we were all discussing butterflies— part of me was not— I was thinking about my boys, my heart and my personal evolution. The simplicity and the magnitude of it all.

My children, my sons, hold different chambers of my heart that I thought was full before “officially” becoming their mommy. That was my own immaturity… Yet, wildly it still had space to grow and evolve.

The heart understands things differently than the mind.

After their arrivals, both times, my boys put both sides of our hearts or our “best friend charm necklace” together to create one and they created the person I was destined to become in the most ordinary and extraordinary days— and even on my worst days, days filled with guilt and ennui. I am the product of their ying and yang.

Later in the week, around bedtime, my boys both asked me if I had a good Mother’s Day. It kinda broke my heart a little bit to be asked that. I was confused and concerned by the question. Did I give them a reason to think otherwise? Or is it that they are now at the stages of their lives where their empathy is maturing on a deeper level?

They understand their actions cause reactions and there’s a “butterfly effect” in life.

I told them the truth— “you are both my presents. My greatest gifts. I will not and could not want for more but I will always want to give you more. Be more. Do more. But you are enough and always will be. My heart is full because of the way you fill it, but has room for what can still fit inside that comes from the exciting unexpected you will bring it with each unknown and evolution.”

Deep?— yes.

Over their heads in some ways?— yes

Will they one day understand my words in their simplicity and magnitude?— yes.

But spoken from my heart of hearts?— yes.

But what I hope they understand now, at this stage of their lives, is how much I love them for the simplicity and magnitude of who they are alone— nothing more and nothing less.

A privilege.

A honor.

And while I am so thankful and so grateful they picked out something or wrote something beautiful for me— someone they love, giving and getting the things you didn’t know you wanted or never existed before are alone breathtaking and are the greatest gifts of all—and that’s them... in their simplicity and magnitude.

A privilege.

An honor.

Even the days that ruin my mascara more than my lipgloss. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

And when I read their I love yous followed by their names I gave them in their evolving handwriting addressed to my name which as also evolved from Ma, to Mama, to Mommy, and sometimes Mom across cards and handmade arts and crafts — it was all I needed— to receive the love back from the love I give.

Simple yet utterly magnificent…

Just like the chrysalis stage of the caterpillar I wait for the next phase in my boys lives... Who will they become? I can see their individuality emerging as they grow and evolve. Crawl and eventually fly—

And the metamorphosis is just as important if not more than the finale.

Can they see mine, too…

But… I still hold tight. it’s hard to just let go sometimes… I want to hang onto everything. But I know I must give them the chance to use their wings because it is simple to give someone personal freedom but there’s magnitude in knowing they fly back to where the heart is…