So Sunday as I'm holding Amelia's pee pants in one hand (keep in mind my child is now again in public and naked from the waist down) and
trying to clean her pee off my other hand (while standing in a group of my
friends) I had an "aha moment". I finally got the thought process
behind the "you're a great girl, but I don't do kids" speech. And for
those of you who have never dated as a mom, you get that speech a lot. A LOT! Yeah,
I GOT that speech in that moment. But as a mom, I'd never trade any pee soaked
moment for any guy in the world. Not even Prince Harry. Not even Paul Walker.
And as I'm driving home, I began to think about all of
those other moments that might have led to a man thinking that my kids are
scary. I mean come on, there are all sorts of TV shows about cute things kids
say and photos on the web with adorable babies and kittens. Seriously, how
could you not want to love my kids?
Could it be the time when Amelia removed all of her clothing
at a Traveler's game and toddled out of the Kid's Corner (the poor ladies
didn't quite know what to do)? Or when she pooped in my front yard during a
Wednesday Night Supper Club at my house (thank god it was my house!). And not all Amelia moments deal with being
naked or some sort of bodily function. There was the time she drove her
brother's tractor into the back of my car and left some nice little marks on
the bumper. Or the 4 ½ months that she didn't sleep. Or the time when we got
snowed in for a week and my mom literally had to walk 2 miles uphill to get her
reflux medicine (which by the way did no good so she just resumed screaming at
us and not sleeping). Maybe?
And Braden doesn't do things quite in the same fashion as
his sister, but he's got his moments. I remember being so sleep deprived for
the first three months of his life that I would constantly leave my house
without shoes on. You'd think I would have learned after the first few times, but
noooo. Or the time he screamed at the people in first class for 2 ½ hours on
the plane ride home from San Antonio. This kid was also sick for 8 weeks in a
row the first winter he was alive. I think I got to the point where I just stopped
doing laundry because he kept puking on me multiple times per day. Or the 4
year old tantrums. Every parent out there who has kids that have made it
through 4 know what I'm talking about. I am almost certain that 4 is the age
that God invented break the strong people of the world.
But then there are Saturday mornings. No matter what the
week before held, I know that my babies will crawl into bed with me and
"watch" Disney Junior while diving under the covers and erupting into
fits of laughter. And Friday donut days at Dales. And sitting at my godparents'
house watching parades. The same parades I used to watch with the same group of
people when I was their age. And what about when they bend down to kiss my hurt
foot because mommy's kisses always make them feel better? What about those
moments?
What about knowing that at the end of the day there is no
one else they'd rather be with. No one else they'd rather snuggle with. No one
else they'd rather have read to them and no one else they'd rather have tuck
them in. What about the fact that Amelia brings me something from the
playground every single day when I pick her up, and I feel obligated to keep it
because she has nothing else to give, but loves me enough to give me all that
she has. Or watching in amazement as my five year old learns to read, and
write, and tie his shoes. Knowing that of all the things he'll ever do, I can't
image being more proud of him than I am in those moments.
Because you see, those moments are the precious moments
that make up a lifetime. These are the moments that make all of the naked,
poopie, sleep deprived days, weeks, and months worth it every single day for
the rest of my life. And I couldn't imagine spending that life with someone who
didn't want to share all of it with me. And as far as I'm concerned, my kids
are the best thing I've ever done or ever will do, so to not want to be a part
of my kids' lives is to not want the best part of me. Until then, the kids and
I will plod on living our lives in the spectacular fashion that we always do
because this momma doesn't need a Prince Charming.
