What I love about being a mom lately

is having a mom.

I really think I can relate to my mom as I pass through each of these stages with the boys. Not only that, it brings me closer to understanding how God loves us like children so completely

desperately

that's how I love my boys, desperately.

Do you know when joy aches? It hurts my heart to love my sons. In a beautiful and over full way- like I can't contain or appreciate the gift.

The other day Augie took over an hour to lay down and get serious about nap. I was so angry and frustrated. I (totally out of anger) gave him a smack on the leg. Then I cried. He cried, but it didn't hurt him- he cried because he was frustrated and I was mean. I am not always anti-spanking, although Jeff and I don't as a rule, I am anti spanking out of anger.

I cried, and asked him to forgive me, and told him that I would mess up a lot as a parent and he would have to forgive me a lot. This made me think of my mom. How I know that she probably went through this same thing (a lot with me- I am the girl Augie) and felt bad, and knew that she was the grown up and should act like the grown up, but didn't always. I bet my mom handled it better. I think she is more patient than me.

My solace lies in the fact that I don't hate my mom because she probably gave me swats to stay in bed. I don't remember, but if I did I wouldn't think she was a bad or mean mom. And only now, as a mom, I know why she would do some of the things she did.

Yesterday, when mom and dad took me and the boys to lunch, and Augie was saying the alphabet (which he loves to say), my mom was praising me for working hard with Augie to get there. I don't think she knows, but mom's praise is still the most coveted, the most meaningful... it made lots of hard hours of work feel so worth it. The only better reward is the fact that Aug is talking more.

I wonder if she thinks about her mom, and what that praise meant, and that is part of what compels her to take care of me in that way.

I love my mom, knowing now what it takes, but never being able to know all that it takes. I suppose the closest we humans can get to truly relating to the divine is to parent. The heartache and joy and desperate love.

Oh, and I know my mom will read this, but I wouldn't have written it any differently even if she didn't.