Love and juice

In the midst of juice boxes and Mickey Mouse and stickers and boo-boo pops, the world stands still. Outside is the fast-paced blur and buzz of mommyhoood and toddlerhood. But inside it's just us - our family. Me and Adele, nose to nose, snuggling before bed. Me stroking her hair. "Goodnight sweetheart, Mommy and Daddy love you so much. Sleep tight."

She sings to herself quietly, usually "Baa Baa Black Sheep," as she drifts off to sleep. And in the morning when she wakes, she reads or sings quietly to herself in her crib. (She has been requesting to sleep with her favorite books, which I let her do, so in the morning she can read to herself before I come in.)

Our lives are busy and hectic. I have back pain and eyelid twitches. We have work and travel, weddings and bridal showers, parties and playdates. Trips to the library, trips to the park. We're ordering pizza and eating it in the living room while watching Dinosaur Train. I'm gulping coffee in the morning while putting on eyeliner while talking to Adele while planning out the day and the week with Sean. We're talking about friends and plans and funny stories. (I tell him how Campbell farted near my face while I was laying on him the other night.)

Our world and our lives are so perfectly chaotic and so perfectly blessed.

When it's me and Adele the world outside stands still. She's speaking in full sentences now, and just last night said "I love you" for the first time to me. Those doors to my heart chambers keep opening. One more opened last night when she said those words. Each day she continues to unlock new doors to new places in my heart, each one touching a special part of my soul. 

She's almost 2 and she has all new hobbies and opinions. She's always drawing. All the time. She carries around notebooks at home, scribbling with her pen. And at school each day makes new drawings of her doodles. I welcome and embrace and cultivate her creativity and expressions. 

In our busy swirl of both working full time and raising a toddler (and Campbell, who is very much like a toddler), I often feel "mommy guilt" that I'm not doing enough. Adele doesn't always brush her teeth before bed. She doesn't always eat the healthiest dinners. She doesn't always eat her fruit (and almost never eats her veggies.) Sometimes she goes to bed with food in her hair. (Not huge chunks, but little crumbs I can't get out.) I buy the cookies for the school parties instead of baking them myself. I don't always fold the laundry. I don't always make dinner. And I don't always make the healthiest dinner, when I DO make dinner. Sometimes I let Teddy Grahams slip into the shopping cart. Sometimes Adele eats dessert before dinner. Sometimes I let her nails get too long. 

But we always sing in the car. We eat dinner together. We snuggle. I encourage her learning and growing and expression. I help her "feed" her dollies and explore her world. We talk about the moon and the sun, and which types of trucks do what jobs. We talk about different animals and the sounds they make. She knows her shapes and colors and likes to pick out her clothes. She likes to wear my jewelry and carry around purses, but at the same time loves sports and dinosaurs and throwing the ball. She loves to run around and get messy and dirty, but also loves walking around in my high heels and picking out bows for her hair. I love all parts of her personality - the fun, energetic, active sporty girl, who is also gentle, when she tucks her dollies in at night and kisses her stuffed animals on the nose. 

I look forward to our chaotic Saturday and Sunday mornings, where I'm making scrambled eggs in the kitchen and Adele is drawing or playing with stickers or sorting Tupperware in her PJs. I'm taking sips of coffee while juggling the spatula while tending to the never-ending needs of a toddler.

For example, there are so many requests for juice.

"Adele, you only get one juice a day," I tell her. "You've already had your juice for today."

"Ok, Mommy." 

(0.2 seconds later)

"I want the pink juice!"

Letting go of a false sense of control and of high expectations for myself is scary, but it's also liberating. And it's not something I learned how to do overnight; it takes practice and patience. But being a mom has certainly helped me get there. 

I am at peace, even with the parts of myself I think I need to change or improve. I'm not perfect, and I'm OK with that. Actually, I'm GREAT with that. I'm at peace with that. 

Being at peace doesn't mean giving in, it means letting go. Letting go of the need for control, of the high expectations. And just allowing myself to do what I do naturally: love. And love, and love, and love.