Taking Time to Look Closely

A couple of weeks ago, my husband and I were loitering in our foyer after Church, chatting with various families while our crew ran amok around us.  A friend that I have only just begun to get to know better over the past few months came over and said, “I just wanted to tell you that you and Paul do such a great job of letting your kids be themselves.”  I was surprised at my reaction of immediate tears, almost to the point of being unable to speak.  I took a breath to compose myself and told her that it was perhaps one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to me.  Not a one of our kids is lacking in personality, to say the least.  In fact, they are all so full of it that my husband and I hardly know what to do with them half of the time.  She went on to say that she truly believes that God creates each kid with their own distinct personality and mission, a person they are and are to become, and that she thinks we’re doing a wonderful job of fostering that in them.  I thought of the many times my seven year old has come to Mass looking like she walked out of a Dr. Seuss novel and I have considered it a win because she is wearing a dress.  (Never mind the striped knee socks and bright red shiny shoes.)  I am sure people have often wondered if I am color blind with some of the ensembles she has put together.  But as she is my child who lives in a hat and camouflage, it is enough of a battle to insist on wrangling her into a dress each week.  And people who know us well know that.
In the weeks that have followed that conversation, I have been reflecting on my brood more than usual and trying to really look at each one of them each day.  I love Kittie Frantz’s quote, “Remember, you are not managing an inconvenience; You are raising a human being.”  This is so easy for me to forget amidst the daily grind of keeping everybody clothed, fed, and educated, as I am interrupted moment after moment, all day long.  It is so easy to fall into the mindset of viewing my kids as a hassle keeping me from accomplishing the simplest of tasks.  Particularly because there are four of them so close in age, and still decently dependent upon me for many of their needs, it is easy to view them as a tribe rather than unique individuals.  I frequently forget that each one of them has been given to us as a gift, that each one has the potential to be someone’s best friend, to find a cure for cancer, to change the world in ways I can’t even imagine.  A very wise friend who had four kids in exactly two and a half years (twins, and two more, all 15 months apart) once told me that she prays often for the grace to be the mom that each of her kids need, as they all need her in different ways.
But when I really take the time to stop and focus on just one of them, ignoring the swirling chaos and noise around us, I am floored with humility that I get to be their mom.  I am amazed that my seven year old is full-blown reading, that she can score a soccer goal, and that she is picking up the piano so quickly.  I am in awe of her patience with her siblings, particularly the way she jumps in when she sees I am about to lose my own patience with them.
I watch my emotions-on-my-sleeve-at-all-times-five-year-old always making sure his younger sister is included in whatever game my oldest is directing.  Though he literally does not sit still from the time he wakes up in the morning, I can always count on him to lend me a helping hand when asked.  He has this generous spirit that is uncanny in a preschooler.
I look at my newly three-year-old, my lover of all things pink and sparkly, and I am amazed at her happy-go-lucky spirit.  There are few things that get her down, and she is such a bright spot in an often dark world.  Don’t let her sweet and queenly nature fool you, though.  Despite being incredibly petite and barely bigger than her younger brother, she can hold her own amongst her siblings just fine.  I love her crazy expressions, the way everything is cause for excitement, and how her favorite letter is “S,” for no apparent reason.
And then I look at my 17 month old, my “baby,” who recently started giving full-on hugs and loves to do so, and think, how did he learn to do that?  I realize it’s not a genius-qualifying behavior, and he does have three older siblings who have basically smothered him from the day we brought him home, but still.  He has such a sweet nature and still loves to cuddle, a behavior my other busy-bodies had mostly moved past by this age.  I watch him hide around the corner from me and laugh when I find him and think, who taught him that?!  And more importantly, when did his feet get so big?  And when did he learn to run so fast?
There have been times during our short parenting stint that I have thought the phrase “open to life” must surely be synonymous with words like “insane” and “masochist.”  But while it is incredibly busy right now, I know it won’t always be this way.  We will always have this pack of kids, but they won’t always need me to cook their every meal.  I am grateful that the countless blessings of having a large family were shown to me over and over long before I started having kids, as I may have let fear keep me from saying yes to one more amazing little person.  For while most days may leave me feeling like a zoo keeper, I am really coming to see the benefit of taking the time to see each one of my little monkeys as their own little incredible person.
photo credit: Key Foster via photopin cc