As I sat watching the girls play in the Chick-fil-A play center searching desperately in my purse for my headphones amidst the discarded princess crown that “just wasn’t staying on” at Boo at the Zoo and empty candy wrappers, I realized that when my husband and I celebrated our 1 year anniversary last weekend it was also a celebration for me of one year as Mama 2. I have to admit that I didn’t think about it last weekend as my husband spoiled me.
But I did as I sat in Chick-fil-A yesterday listening in on a webinar in one ear and the girls giggles in the other. And I wondered about the years to come as I rounded up barbies and crayons and ladybug night lights cleaning up for the rest of our week as a husband and wife and not daddy and mama 2 (although those identities aren’t ever really shelved).
I won’t pretend that yesterday as a working mom is anything compared to the women who are doing it every day, but it certainly was a balancing act that took them to make copies of graded comments for my afternoon class of students and has led them to afternoon naps at church this summer because of their PK identity.
I’ll be the first to admit how hard it is to know that there will always be times in the girls’ lives that I am not a part of: both the times before I entered the picture and the times when they aren’t with us. At times, I find myself so involved in the what I’ve missed that I miss out on the being with. And yet, I know that the changing sheets and pajamas and baths in the middle of the night and the rocking to sleep and reading the same books again and again and finally finding that missing sock that was supposed to go back with them is forming a story that will be a part of their lives and my life.
We didn’t get to start at the beginning, but we did have a beginning that we can share. A different kind of birth story of when and how I came into their lives, of when and how we became mama 2 and daughters. And that story, now a year old, is worth celebrating and cherishing.