Out Of Hiding

Mommy, did you put creamer in my cereal?
What?! I asked, appalled. Certainly I wouldn’t do such a thing. . . right?
I looked at Chanelle and laughed, of course I didn’t!
It doesn’t taste right, she told me.
I reassured her, no Chanelle, I’m sure I didn’t put creamer in your cereal.  

I reached down to continue cleaning up our breakfast mess and noted skim milk in one hand and hazelnut creamer in the other.  I looked back at Chanelle as she examined her Unfrosted Shredded Wheats Fruity Pebbles and slowly took another bite while turning her nose up in disgust.
I bit back on my emerging laughter as I began to question which dairy product I had poured over Chanelle’s well-balanced breakfast.  I quickly put the yellow container of creamer back in the fridge next to the yellow container of milk and quietly grabbed a spoon and dipped it into Chanelle’s cereal for a sample.

Hmmmm. . . It. . . seems. . . um. . . fine. . . Chanelle. . . . I think.

She looked at me with a mix of disbelief and annoyance.  Sort of like this. . .

She pushed her bowl away from her and asked for a peach and cottage cheese instead.  I smiled even bigger knowing my plan to coax my daughter into a healthy breakfast actually worked.

(Just kidding.)

I’m not certain that her cereal contained creamer, but in all honesty, I can’t be 100 percent sure.

**********************

Early on in my mothering years, these were the stories I wanted to hide.  These are the stories that made me want to bury my head in shame because they cast a huge spotlight on my deficiencies.  Not because of one little mistake, but because these little things happened all of the time.  I was embarrassed to be so far off the “normal” curve so much of the time that I felt I needed to hide.   Putting my best foot forward was often difficult when it was so often tripping over the other foot.

Sure, little “mom moments” seem like small things.  And really, they are.  In reality, though, there was so much more.

I am an introvert in an extroverted world. (Hide)
I was a daughter of an alcoholic mother. (Hide)
I am a motherless daughter. (Hide)

From the big things to the small things, a few years ago, all I wanted to do was hide.

Maybe it’s putting a few years behind me or maybe it’s just a little more life experience, but I’ve learned a few things since those hiding days.  I’ve learned the importance of embracing my story in its entirety.

Something happened when I came out of hiding.  Something happened when I began writing here (did you know introverts prefer writing?).  Something happened when I began telling people about my Mom.  Something happened when I began laughing at my silly Mom moments and telling my friends about them.

Earlier this week, I forgot to add coffee when making coffee.

I began to embrace myself. . . as I am, where I am.

As I look toward the future and anticipate all the changes and challenges our kids will face, these are the lessons I most want to model for them.

I’m not overly concerned with their grasp on percentages or how to diagram a sentence, I know those things will come.  (Why did I have to diagram a sentence?) More than anything I want them to see the beauty that within them.  I want them to understand that the most unique thing about them are their stories and the way they tell them.  I want them to find beauty in the ashes and to embrace the character that lies within them.

Photo taken by Chanelle

I don’t want them to be afraid of who they are.  I don’t want them to fear their differences or their sameness.  I want them to find joy in who they are and the joy in others.

Sometimes, in the normalcy of making meals, doing laundry, and pouring creamer into bowls of cereal, I forget the enormous privilege and responsibility it is to live life alongside these little lives.  I hope that as I continue to make progress in embracing my own story that they might see, and do the same.

I recently read a most wonderful book, If You Feel To Much by Jamie Tworkowski, the founder of the non-profit Two Write Love On Her Arms. I loved these words. . .

“In the event we live to be old, I doubt our last days will find us aching for success or achievements.  I doubt we’ll ask for bigger names or Internet followers or virtual friends.  If influence comes, then let it come, but it was never the point of the story.  We will look back and smile at the moments that were real, the people who knew us and the people we knew, the relationships and conversations, the days we walked together, the story that we told.  We will consider the moments when we were allowed to show our beauty and our mess and the miracle moments when we were embraced by people who loved us even at our worst.  And they loved us not for any sort of fame but simply because our stories had joined somehow and that miracle of friendship had taken place.”

I like that.  I hope for this kind of knowing and embracing for my kids, for you, for all of us. . .

Have a beautiful Fourth of July weekend, Friends. . .