My kids called me into the den Sunday afternoon for a Mother’s Day surprise.
“Okay, just sit here and put your feet in the water. You can swish them around to mix up the bath salts.”
“You can sit there for a while if you want.”
“Is the water warm?”
I sat for a while, and we talked, and when I took my feet out I managed to avoid a fight by letting everybody take turns drying them. Oldest even gave me a foot massage. I hadn’t even realized my feet were tired.
I think what they treated me to was a combination foot washing/spa treatment. None of us have ever been to a spa, so none of us were quite sure. But it was sweet and generous.
I like that we keep surprising each other.
Would it matter if the forgive-me-I’m-new-at-this feeling never went away? Along with the constant shifting to try to find my bearings, there are these beautiful moments as a mother that simultaneously stretch and level me. Not only are there all the things I knew I didn’t know about life with children, there are all the other things—large and small—that I never would have imagined:
That my children would hesitate to tell me about their nightmares, because they did not want to frighten me.
That they would introduce me to strangers at the grocery store.
That they would pity me for being the only non-blond in the family.
That they would sometimes put their arms around my shoulder.
That influence goes both ways.
That all of it, in fact—not just the tough stuff, but also grace, affection, insight, love—all of it flows in more than one direction.
May we always keep growing and always feel new.
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