I'm the Mom!?

You would think that after five years of being one, I would be at least a little comfortable with the title of 'Mom'. But nothing could be farther from the truth. When Uta was a baby it was easier. Caring for him was simple, like an extension of my own body, I could anticipate his needs, calm him in an instant. Nurturing him came easier then caring for myself. I felt like I had always been his mother. 

But with the start of school things shifted, our once symbiotic relationship had a new outside influence, the clock. No longer could we flow through our days following nothing but our natural whims. Uta had to be at school by 8:40 and that meant getting him to bed early enough to make that a possibility. We had deadlines, bedtimes, consequences. Overnight I grew to hate the sound of my own voice, always pushing him, trying to move him along at a pace completely foreign to him. Uta felt the difference. He started saying 'You hate me' all the time. He said that I was different, I had changed, and requested that I start wearing my hair in a ponytail again like I did when I was 'nice'. (This request was a little baffling and all I can guess is that he had linked my ponytail to the summertime when our days were our own.)  

Of course I didn't hate him, but suddenly I had no patience and spoke to him in a tone that I never would have fathomed just months earlier. He clearly didn't like it and I didn't either, but thats the way it has to be I thought. I'm the Mom, I have to be the time police. When talking about this with a friend recently she said, 'Welcome to the daily grind'. Just then something in me clicked. No! I will not welcome the grind. Yes, we have to be in school on time, but there is no reason why we can't engage the morning rush with smiles on our faces. There is always time to bring a little joy into the moment. I don't want to be the 'Mom', I just want to help this little person bloom. I just want to be with this new soul, who happens to be my boy, and dance this dance together.