Mushy Gushy Mama Post

For those that don’t want to read the words of a completely sappy, emotional, sentimental mama gushing about her children, I would advise that you skip this particular post.

You have been warned. It may leave you gagging, or eye rolling (yes, I already heard eyeballs hit the ceiling), or annoyed (especially if you’re having a rough day), but for you family and friends like family and readers who have come to share in our family’s growth, you may find joy in these words.

I built this space to archive and reflect on my life, primarily as a parent, but also as a creator, thinker, “farmer (homesteader? backyard dabbler?),” feminist, human being, and while it has shifted and twisted through the years and months, I ultimately want it to be a space that my girls can visit to better understand their mother, their family, and the love that I have for them beyond measure. And so, it’s been awhile since I’ve spoken intently and directly about the girls, beyond a sentence or two here or there each week in The 52 Project. And today, I felt warranted documentation and reflection, because I felt my heart swell with a pride and a love worthy of remembrance.

Sunny, today we had your first “official” Parent-Teacher conference. Your daddy and I crouched on chairs built for Kindergarteners and listened intently as your teacher spoke to your immense progress and growth these past few months. You are learning. And leading. And role-modeling. And reading (oh how you adore reading, and it makes me ache with joy). And thriving. And… happy. Happy. I can tell you that beyond any other measure, your happiness is the root of my own. So this, this is most important.

As we were wrapping up the meeting, we asked about how you engaged socially with your classmates. You have always been on the quiet side, like both your parents were at this age (as unbelievable as that may sound), and you are deeply independent. You play contently by yourself, never yammering for playdates, or worrying over the social politics of the various kids in your class, or playing in large groups. This in no way worries us, as social pressures and insecurities can get fierce, particularly as a middle school girl, and we can only hope that this independent side of you helps you weather that storm. But we don’t want you to be gruff or stand-offish with your peers, so we asked the teacher how your more introverted, independent side presented in the classroom.

Your teacher’s response was wonderfully unexpected. She told us that you were by far the most “sought after” kid in the classroom. That students squabbled over who would get to sit next to you during circle time, or be your partner during gym class. And she said that she thought that your peers responded to you in this way because you were always kind. And willing to help. And unwaveringly fair and even in how you treated others. And that the kids seemed to understand that by interacting with you that they were to be met with a true beneficence and kindheartedness.

I nearly burst into tears at these very words. Because this world needs so much more of exactly this. Kindness. Deep, measured kindness.

Amusingly, your Auntie Kimmy was also highly “sought after” as a child (odd phrasing, I know, but I think it gets at the sentiment). Momar tells stories of children “fighting” over Kimmy, and that Auntie Kimmy used to come home from Kindergarten pitifully asking her, “Why does everybody like me so much?” because she was so worried about the squabbling that occurred on her account. I’d imagine that Auntie Kimmy’s peers responded that way for very similar reasons that your own peers feel this way about you, Sunny. And Auntie Kimmy is one of the most quietly confident and inspiringly independent women I know, so I’d say that you’re on the right track. And it nearly crippled me with pride to hear it.

And Courtland, my outrageously adorable and sweet Kick Kaks. You have been positively slaying us with cute of late. I find myself wanting to gobble you whole time and again. The number of times I respond to you with outbursts of, “YOU’RE SO STINKING CUTE!” has gotten a little out of hand.

Take tonight, for example. I went out for a colleague’s birthday dinner, and returned home to a soundly sleeping house. I ducked into your bedroom to give you and your sister a kiss goodnight. I started with Sunny in the top bunk, rearranging some covers before kissing her soundly slumbering head. I then went to bend down to kiss you goodnight and was greeted with wide, blinking eyes and a smile that could have powered this house through last night’s electrical outage (the second this season, WEEEE!). You giggled wildly, presenting as though you’d been awake for hours, and cackled, “HI MAMA! I LOVE YOU SO MUCHIE!” (which is your current favorite phrase). I was excited to greet you but worried that it might take awhile to get you back to sleep, so I leaned down and you scooped me up in a hug and said, “I’m so glad you’re home. Did you have fun at your party?” I responded that yes, I’d had fun, but that it was time to go back to sleep. You looked at me very matter-of-factly before declaring, “OH! All right!” and promptly rolling over and burying yourself in blankets. And, sweet lordy it was so adorable yet mature, so childish and yet adult that I found myself very actively reflecting on just how far we’ve come in our parenting journey and yet just how much joy lies ahead.

And for all these things, I felt compelled to write them down, because I don’t do that nearly as much as I once did (or found myself needing to), but this was a moment where it wasn’t about need or routine, but about simply wanting to capture this day, these moments, to reflect on for a lifetime.

There is lots of ugliness happening in the world right now, and for a moment, I needed to shelter myself in the happiness of a day with my children.