Letters to Our Children: February 2014

This is the second in a 12 month series of letters written to my children. I'm so excited (and honored) to be a part of this great project with a group of fellow photographers and moms. Next up in our circle is Ashleigh, read her post here.

Dear Rowan,
A couple of weeks ago I went along with your class on a field trip. We spent the whole school day at a nature preserve, hiking in the snow, learning about animal adaptations to the cold weather, and visiting a farm that was also on the property. You even fed a chickadee from your hands, which was the part of the trip that all of the kids couldn't stop talking about. Normally I wouldn't be available to go along on a field trip that ambitious, because of having your little brother and sister at home with me. But this time, when the letter came home to tell the parents about the trip, you sighed, "I wish you could go with me. I know you can't, because of the baby. But I wish you could go sometimes." So Grandma Donna came to stay for a visit, and kept the little ones home. It was touching, how excited you were. You insisted that I sit next to you on the bus, and of course we ate lunch together. You assured me that whenever moms come on these things, they get their own kids in their groups, so we'd be together all day. You introduced me to your friends, "That's my mom." Your dad laughed at me when I volunteered, because spending the day outside with a naturalist, in the snow, is not really my cup of tea, to be honest. I would have been thrilled if the field trip involved all of us snuggled up in a library somewhere, with a fire and cocoa, reading books all day. Alas...feeding chickadees it was. But the thing is...when I pictured being a mom, I thought I'd do all the stuff like this. Field trips, volunteering in class, one on one time. That's why I'm not working outside the house, I wanted to "be there." As much as I could. You'll find this out when you're a mom: It doesn't go the way you thought it would. That's not to say I wouldn't do it over again in a heartbeat, I'm glad every day for all of you. But I am rarely the mom I pictured in my head. One of the things that's hardest about having a big family is trying to give enough of myself to everyone, and feeling spread so thin. I hope that when you're a grown woman, you'll feel like having these siblings to love makes up for the lost alone time with me. At least we had a day, hiking through the snow during the coldest, snowiest winter in twenty years. You'll remember that, right?
I wanted you to let me take a picture with you this afternoon, to go with this letter. When I asked you to do it, you protested. You complained that you hate having pictures taken. You said, "I hate having to get my hair brushed." I said, "Stand here please." Then it was, "I hate standing. It makes my legs tired." Then I picked you up for the picture, and we started. When we were done, and I let you go, you said, "That was fun, actually." And just now, as I write, your dad called down from where he's giving you a bath and said, "Rowan just said, like four times, "Everyone but Mom is being mean to me."" You won't remember that. But I'll be glad we have these pictures to remind us.
Love always, Mama