The Secrets of Alpha and Omega

Alpha and Omega. The first and the last.

Nearly a decade ago, I became a mother. And though I will now always be a mother, my days of mothering little ones is coming to a close. I find myself pondering how far I have come since my first. How things have changed and how they have remained the same.

As a mother of one, I waited until Daddy was home to go grocery shopping
As a mother of four, I celebrate the fact that I only have to take one to the store with me.

As a mother of one, I waited for a babysitter or nap time to take a shower.
As a mother of four, I lock the baby in my room and let her destroy it while I shower.

As a mother of one, I refused to carry her "on demand" as soon as she was able to walk on her own.
As a mother of one, I still beg to carry. After all, she is going to grow-up and walk away someday.

As a mother of one, I watched Bear in the Big Blue House and PB and J Otter.
As a mother of four, I watch Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and My Friends Tigger and Pooh. The shows may have changed but the channel hasn't.

As a mother of one, my two year old lived with the consequences of each action... throw a fit and refuse to put your shoes on? Fine, walk barefoot in the snow. Natural consequence. Next time you'll put your shoes on (Right!)
As a mother of four, I can't bear my two year old suffering any consequences.

As a mother of one I spent any warm afternoon in our "park" (aka backyard) pushing my child and her Telitubby on the swings.
As a mother of four, I spend any warm afternoon in the backyard pushing my child and her baby on the swings. We do have a much cooler swing set now.

As a mother of one, I encouraged my child to be independent. To do things for herself. Feed herself. Dress herself. Make her own bed at 2. Make her own peanut butter sandwich. Granted this little one has always been fiercely independent so it wasn't hard.
As a mother of four, I encourage my child to let me do things for her. She is my last one! She has the rest of her life to be independent and I know that time will come to soon.

As a mother of one, I was the sole playmate. I was responsible for playing babies and Winnie the Pooh all day.
As a mother of four, I am the sole playmate during the hours of 8:15-3:35. I am responsible for playing babies and Barbies and a 2 year old version of Dance Dance Revolution.

As a mother of one, I felt nervous, over protective and guilty.
As a mother of four, I feel four times as nervous, over protective and guilty.

As a mother of one, I had to battle breaking the awful pacifier habit.
As a mother of four, I still have to battle breaking the awful pacifier habit. Funny, as a mother of two and a mother of three I did not have this battle.

As a mother of one, everything was new and exciting (translation: scary)
As a mother of four, all the newness is almost over (translation: scary)

As a mother of one, I spent the day tripping over the little yellow chair of trouble. The chair she could push around in order to get into things she was not suppose to.
As a mother of four, lucky me! She found the little yellow chair of trouble.

As a mother of one, my little girl would put on this hideous blue tank top everyday.
As a mother of four, my little girl likes to put on my "sometings" (meaning bra) everyday. I wish I still owned the blue tank top.

As a mother of one, when my baby had the sniffles I called the doctor.
As a mother of four, when my baby has the sniffles I thank Heavenly Father that she wants to be cuddled! (I also give her medicine)

Ten years... In some ways I feel so much more confident as a mother. At this point I do have a fairly impressive resume. I have a nine year old that is still alive and is fantastic in math. I have and eight year old who is lucky she is still alive and excels in reading. I have a six year old who is still breathing and can still make us giggle all the time. The two year old.... well, we'll see if she makes it.

But in other ways, I am still that scared "new mom" who doesn't want to mess up. Who internalizes everything! Every mistake they make I wonder what could I have done to help them know not to make it. Every sadness they suffer I wonder how I could have shielded them from it. What have I done wrong? How did I mess them up today? What will they be saying to a therapist years from now? And every time they do something fantastic or amazing, I wonder where they learned it from. It must be dad...

I guess I am just feeling a little melancholy about Grace growing up so fast. As the kids get older, I become less of an influence on them. Friends, teachers, even television have started encroaching on my turf! I know that my job is to guide them into adulthood in a way that allows them to filter through all of the influences of the world and still make correct choices. And to accomplish it that they have to be exposed to those influences and shown how to sift through them to find the good.

But dang it! I still want to be the sole playmate! The end-all-be-all. The answer to any question they have. I still want to be #1 in their world (sorry dad, but you can be my second).