One of my precious daughters, I’ll save her the future embarrassment of sharing which one, spent the better portion of three hours today crying. Long, drawn out, right in mama’s ear sobs. Everything was just so tragic. At once she was too hot, then too cold. Then she learned that bees would be out in a couple of months. Really, it was too much for a little girl to handle.
I tried to remain composed during this time, but let’s just say I didn’t completely succeed.
Just as she was trying my last nerve, I looked back at her in her car seat. She took a moment’s pause between sobs, and when she caught my eye, she gave me a little half grin. She held my gaze for a good few seconds, and in those seconds an understanding occurred. She saw that I loved her even though she had to have known she was not behaving properly. And she saw that I wouldn’t leave her. She saw the steadiness in her mama’s love. And I saw my little baby girl, not so much of a baby most days, but still not very far off.
Then the moment was broken as something else tragic happened to her – I can’t remember what it was. Perhaps her jacket was the wrong shade of lavender. But I fixed my eyes back on the road in front of me and left as the light turned green.
As I drove off, I was reminded that mothering can be hard. Mothering little people has tested my patience in more ways than I can count. But every day I am reminded that those little moments, those five seconds of a shared gaze, can make hours of a tantrum worth it.
Mothering isn’t always about saying the right thing or doing the right thing. It’s not always about guiding and teaching and sharing. Sometimes, it’s just about saying that I will be right here. Always. By your side. It’s about teaching a child that their ugly is still lovable. That their imperfection is acceptable. And that when they need reassurance, they never need look further than the lady in the driver’s seat.
I’m sure I could have handled her tantrums better. I’m sure I could have done a better job of calming her down before it turned into a tantrum. But in that moment, she and I shared grace. A grace mutually given and received. We loved each other during our less than lovable moments. And because of that, a little beauty grew from the weeds.