A Letter to My Older, Wrinkled, Empty-Nester Self

Dear Lonely McForgot-It-All,
Remember reading this blog post on Scary Mommy? Remember how the more experienced mom wrote a letter to her pregnant, childless self and really "let her have it?" Remember how you identified with everything she wrote and how you wish you had known all of this before your babies were born? Well, I have a feeling you are going to need some more information as you get older. You see, I know you very well. You are an old lady, missing your babies, reminiscing about how fun young motherhood was, missing being needed and wanted and constantly talked to. I don't blame you. I think about you a lot. A LOT. I think about how you will finally have your life back but miss these days of having two young sons, a 3-year-old and a 10-month-old. You will sit by yourself sometimes and yearn for the days you were constantly busy with tushies to wipe, boogars to pick, meals to prepare, bottles to make, baths to give, onesies to fold, nails to clip, lunches to pack, boo boos to kiss, spit-up to catch . . . I imagine you don't regret a day you spent away from your career because you had all those many days as a stay-at-home mama to those little people who needed you every moment, and I bet you want them back more than anything.

But, I wanted to take a few moments to share with you all the things you have forgotten about those days. Future Self, you have forgotten all the midnight wakings that made your body hurt as you forced yourself from a deep slumber into your son's dark nursery. You may have forgotten how you would spend an hour swaying with him and rocking him until he was settled back to sleep just to wake up again right when you put him down. You are forgetting how much your back ached and swelled with pain because you were so overtired or tense or frustrated for your snotty-nosed baby. When you finally cave and decide to give him a bottle, you head to the kitchen and trip over a million Legos or accidentally kick a trick-or-treat pumpkin (in JULY for God-sake!) filled with toy trains that rattles enough to possibly wake your toddler, too. Remember that? A house cluttered CONSTANTLY with toys and random kitchen items strewn about your house? Remember the feeling of never getting the house in order and feeling like your cleaning efforts were thwarted every minute? You're forgetting how you would finally settle one son only to be awoken by the other. Now he wants to climb in bed with you. He tells you to scoot over or to give him a pillow. He wants to know what time morning is and how much longer before he can get up. When you tell him to go back to sleep, he says, "P.U! Your breath smells yucky!" You want to tell him his does, too, but you muster some decency and try to model patience and acceptance at 4:00am.

Of course you LOVE how he wants to hold your hand, he wants to cuddle with you. You don't even mind that all the sleep experts say not to let him in your bed.You love this boy so much. You think back to when he was a small infant like his brother, and you are reminded how fleeting these days are. You start to not care if the baby needs you again; after all, he's sick and doesn't feel well. He cries again for you, and when you welcome him back into your soft arms, he immediately falls back to sleep. He's curled up in your arms, snug and safe. His breathing evens out, and you feel the warmth of his body against yours. You pull him up to lay on your shoulder, and you feel his forehead at your chin. His tiny hairs tickle your face, and his little fingers find yours. This IS heaven. Of course you want this back.

But, I'm here to tell you that I AM enjoying those moments. There are MANY throughout the day, and I savor them. I tear up almost daily - still - while tucking the big boy in. As his eyes get heavy every evening in his big boy bed, I have to fight myself to run in there and pick him up, cradle him, rock him, and tell him how much I love him. I do sometimes, as I KNOW you remember, and he smiles and holds my face in his hands, pulls me close, and tells me "You know what, Mommy? I love you, too. And, I'll see you in the morning." Oh, your heart is in a million pieces, and you're forcing yourself to let him just go to sleep already! So, don't think you didn't savor these moments. You do, you did, you always will.

Just remember that these days were LONG. They were grueling. They were frustrating. Remember the days you felt like NO ONE listened to you? You asked the same damn question over and over again and got NO response? Remember how you had the same schedule every.freaking.day? Don't forget how you had to be home every night (for YEARS!) by 6:45 for the start of the never-ending bath, book, bedtime routine. Don't forget the spills, the dumping of a cereal bowl on the couch (ON PURPOSE!), the constant application of sunscreen or bug repellant, the crumbs in the car, the snot on your shirt, the many meals you missed because you were too busy getting everyone else to eat - but they wouldn't, so you had wasted food that was too gross for you to eat (you know, grapes with ketchup on them or grilled cheese sandwiches that had been doused with spat-out milk). I know you'll miss the smell of Dreft (you already do, and you're still using it!), but don't forget how overpriced it is. That and formula... oy, formula. So freaking expensive. And then they turn one, and you're buying three different kinds of milk: whole for the one-year-old, 2% for the three-year-old (and Sam), and skim for me. Don't forget these years of having to move the trash cans up on counter tops so little mouths don't find used Kleenexes or dull razorblades. Don't forget having to "ask permission" from Mom or from Sam to be able to go to the doctor; maybe if they are willing to keep the kids, you can actually go to the doctor alone. Remember waking up at the slightest cough or sniffle. Remember these days of trying to talk openly to your husband and having to spell everything out so little ears didn't worry or get upset or too excited about what you were talking about. Don't forget the years of missing friends or date nights or colleagues or the news or uninterrupted conversations at a family get-together- because you were too busy with these little people.

But, yet, these little people. I know. You miss them. They are big and grown and out of your house. And, you're old and you miss the way you'd worry he'd fall out of his bed because he still turned every which way as if he were still in a crib. You're wrinkled and aging, and they are too. And you miss that they'd talk your head off and ask questions all day long. You yearn for the days he'd want you and only you. You even miss the funny things they'd say, no matter how inappropriate ("I'm going to pull my underwear down and see if my penis is big."). And, oh, those underwear. Yes, you miss those, I know. The cars, trains, or superheroes, the tiny tush, how they're so tiny you don't even try to fold them. You'll miss him running around in them, but maybe you won't miss how he needs you to help him put them back on after he insists on taking them off completely after every bathroom visit, while you're trying to cook dinner or change the baby or go to the bathroom yourself!

So, self, it's okay to be sad. But, be assured that you lived these years well. You hated them a lot of the time. You loved them deeper though. You did things you wish you could take back, I know. You yelled a little more than you wanted. You reacted too quickly or responded too sharply. You rolled your eyes behind their backs, or you cursed under your breath when you couldn't believe he was up AGAIN in the middle of the night. No, you weren't perfect. But, you were you. And you were (and are) human. I assure you, though, that I'm doing everything in my power to make these days memorable for them and for you. I am making you proud, I promise. I am savoring and cherishing, but I am also being real. This is not easy, it's not always fun, it's not always rainbows and butterflies. So, don't remember it like it was. Remember those amazing times, know that they were well spent, and move on. Besides, look at the beautiful kids you raised. I sure hope you can say, "I did a great job. My kids are successful, happy, healthy, and thriving. I'm one accomplished mama." And, then, I hope you can say, "I am SO glad I get to sleep in tomorrow!"

Much love,
Your Much Younger, "Chicken-with-her-head-cutoff," Sleep-Deprived Self