Sometimes I'd Like to Live on Memory Lane

I've been a little nostalgic lately. Sometimes "life" just seems to catch up and pass me!
Last week our oldest child graduated from college and moved to NY, ready to tackle the world --he left with a trunk full of clothes, his guitar, his ipod, a AAA card, and a piece of my heart. This week we are also preparing to usher our middlest daughter into adulthood -- we'll watch her graduate from high school and then she too will soon enter the "grown up" ranks of the college scene. These events, along with Mother's Day and my birthday tomorrow (as well as those pesky fluctuating hormones that we women contend with all the time) have converged into something akin to a perfect storm of nostalgia.

So I have been looking at old pictures, reminiscing about life and children, and thinking about some of my earliest days as a new mom. I was like so many others, a bit unsure and nervous, and sometimes things were not very easy, or very calm. But motherhood has been a real blessing and it has also provided ample opportunities to learn things like the fine art of keeping my mouth shut diplomacy. Living in a small community in rural Georgia, I had many experiences with receiving“helpful advice” from well-intentioned(?) busy-bodies experts where I had a chance to put my new found skills into practice. This one involved our firstborn, and it left me speechless. . . and a little wiser.

Our son was born in the middle of July and, except for doctor visits, I still had not ventured out in public with him--and it was nearing the end of August. It wasn't because I was afraid or worried someone might breathe on him or give him a cold; it wasn't even because I was still recovering from a C-section. It was mostly because of the pregnancy "left-overs" that made all of my clothes obscenely too tight. "How on earth did my thighs gain baby weight??" I wondered, "These are my legs, for goodness sake; there wasn't even any baby there!" Honestly, there was just no way I was sporting those new "bundles of joy" in public until they were a more manageable size. I was not, I repeat, not wearing maternity clothes after the fact. No way.

So after a few weeks of exercise and a bit of discipline at the dinner table (and a huge dose of reality which eventually led to a trip to the mall for larger clothes) I decided it was time to show off my sweet, sweet little first born. He was ready to meet the world even if my thighs weren't. We took the little guy to church for his first official outing. After the service my husband and I made our way outside and walked toward the car with Little One safely buckled in his carrier, eyes shielded from the sun. Mind you, it was probably 98 degrees in the Georgia heat by this time of day. However one of the little old ladies stopped us and scolded me for not having our baby’s feet covered with a blanket. "He'll catch his death from a cold," she warned emphatically and quickly threw a blanket over him, head to toe. Cover his feet? What?! Oh my goodness, I had no idea exposed feet. . . in August. . . in Georgia could be life-threatening. How did I miss that little tidbit of advice in the mountain of baby books I'd devoured during pregnancy. I smiled apologetically and walked on. Just as we reached our car another woman stopped to admire our new little one, and she too had a word of wisdom to impart, “Take this blanket off that baby," she chastised, "Don’t you know it’s almost 100 degrees out here!?” What was a new mom to do?

Now that I am closing in on the other side of child-rearing I have a better perspective. (And so far, my offspring have managed to grow up in spite of me.) For the most part, over the years, I relied on common sense, my Mom’s experienced wisdom, selective memory loss, thousands of band-aids, lots of prayer, and a ton of Dr. Dobson books; and I also bit my tongue more times than I can remember.

And now it's my turn to impart some words of wisdom to you newbie moms out there--you may not believe this right now while you are in the midst of cleaning vom off your lap, or digging cheerios out of the crevices of your car, or throwing away your toothbrush because you discovered your toddler cleaning the toilet with it, or staying up until 3AM supervising ten giggling 8 year olds at a slumber party, or wiping away the tears of your broken-hearted little league player, or riding white-knuckled in a car with a 15 year old kid and her newly issued learner's permit, or typing a term paper 6 hours before it's due. Just remember. . . those sweet little babies do grow up. And they do learn to dress themselves (feet covered or not.) And they do learn to say please and thank you. And they do (sometimes) learn to pick up after themselves. And they do learn to drive and to type their own papers. And they do graduate. And they do make you proud. And they do go on to make a life for themselves! So heed this advice: do not under any circumstances look at old baby pictures of your children, especially during the week when they are graduating and leaving the nest. It will rip out your heart. I won't even mention what happens when you watch old home movies of the little critters. . . My advice, take it or leave it. :)