It’s funny when I hear other people talk about how hard it is with little children–babies and toddlers–because I found those the easier years for so many reasons.  One of the most selfish reasons is that problems were easier to solve.  Giving hugs, swaddling, rocking, feeding, comforting–you name it, it was easier for me.  I could deal with the constant sleep interruptions, unfinished meals and hauling gear everywhere I had to go.  Easy Peasy, Lemon Squeezey.  Those years made me feel like a rock star compared to some of the haggling and negotiating that goes on these days.  I shouldn’t speak so soon, because right now everyone is charming and getting along–life is rolling along.  But, I just read a post about being kind to yourself when things aren’t going your way and how the blogger isn’t going to ignore the crankiness in her life or try to sugar-coat it (she’s dealing with molasses-slow construction issues, which I kind of feel like–“isn’t that always the case?”  Not that I’m diminishing her issues, those are harsh realities.  I’m just very jaded about construction and contractors because of our very painful home addition a couple of years back.).  This blogger mentioned how someone sent her a “magic potion.”  The arrival of this potion and the kind gesture of her friend made her reframe her thinking.  She provided a link to the magic potion–it was some sort of “comfort” essential oil blend.  The description states how we all want comfort, especially these days, but we don’t know how to ask for it or get it.  Interesting.  The rusty gears in my mind started to squawk and it made me realize that comfort was one of the keys to my wistfulness. 

The baby years of my motherhood were filled with comfort and coziness, of the kind that only babies and very small children can provide because it exists in a bubble.  The comfort and coziness are the physical closeness, the nonverbal communication and that mother-child bond that runs so deep you don’t realize, until you really stop to think about it.  Not that these things don’t continue into adulthood, but when your children are babies and toddlers these attributes are the core of your relationship–their “person” is still developing and has a long way to go (plus, many of the needs are physical which are usually easily manageable), but the few existing and emerging characteristics are so prominent.  When I was pregnant with Big Monkey people kept telling me that babies are just blobs who don’t do anything, but they are so much more fun when they get older.  Really?  I found that to be false–healthy babies are alert and engaging, just on a much different level.  I wonder if these people ever gazed into the eyes of their newborns or watched their newborns see new things as they developed better eyesight?  I never thought that I’d be wistful for those years–don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to return because that ship has sailed.  But, I sometimes think it would be nice to recapture some of that essence.  I never thought I’d enjoy babies and toddlers as much as I did.  My mom always told me and my brother that we weren’t good with babies and children (when we were teens).  Guess I bought into way too many of the stories my mom told me, but I managed to block that out during the baby years.  The problem is during recent years my mom’s stories have come back to haunt me.  I was able to keep them at bay for a long time and now that I have more time to think I am plagued.  Which returns me to wistful.  I’m longing for those days of comfort and being the rock star mom who could solve problems with a hug and a kiss.  Clearly, it’s time to reframe and I suppose I need to find a new “comfort” for this different phase of motherhood and self.  The odd thing is, I don’t really remember what comforted me before I had children…

What comforts or has comforted you?

Give me a shoutout! 🤠

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