You say it's your birthday...

My oldest child is fast approaching her 7th birthday. Next week I will have a 7 year old daughter! I find it rather shocking since that means I've been parenting, been MOM, for all that time; I've been on the clock and basically responsive and responsible for 2,555 days! It feels like quite an achievement for both me and Cleo.

Parenting is as dynamic and mysterious a process as photosynthesis, as far as I'm concerned. Parenting has shaped my heart and mind in ways that I certainly couldn't ever have predicted and it has challenged me to the breaking point on many occasions. I think one of the biggest perks, and certainly one of the most balancing principles of parenting is the way it humbles you. Daily I'm humbled by the humongous love I feel for my kids, one that seems to just keep exponentially growing. I'm humbled by all the mistakes and instantaneous regrets I feel when I mishandle or ignore something and watch the mood and problem spiral out of my grasp. I'm humbled by the way my kids seem to just keep loving me right through all those mistakes I make. And I'm humbled by the enormity of the task of teaching and caring for someone for a lifetime, knowing that whatever happens this relationship of being a parent to a child will define me and help define them.

Cleo as an almost 7 year old is so full of wonder and smart little quips that I seriously want to bottle her vitality and save it for some future rainy day when she's a teen, lying on the bed in headphones texting, dull eyes staring back at me. She can be rough and tumble or dainty and fancy. She likes dinosaurs and peace signs and owls. She is attracted to treasures and hoards small objects like, ahem, ancient skeleton keys stolen from Grandma Mia's house. She collects rocks and crystals, loves Scooby Doo, ancient Egypt, and anything macabre. I know I'm biased, but I think she's utterly fascinating. But don't get me wrong, I forget this important fact daily. I think sometimes I forget to see my own children, or maybe it's more that I tend to only see them as my children and forget to see them for themselves?

The monotony of routine as a parent, and the fact that you are responsible for creating a human who understands manners, grammar, morality, and kindness is what can make you numb to the experience. But boy, taken out of context, kids are magic. Watching Flynn walk around with his white elephant gift-a disposable camera- over the holidays was enough to remind me that everything he sees is of interest to him. The doorknob, my face, the toilet bowl. Details are interesting to kids, and as they age, I'm learning that they have such fascinating ways of putting all those details together to form a world view. I was telling Cleo a story about my youth at my Grandma Lou's the other day and she interrupted me to ask "so was all the world gray back then?" She was interpreting black and white photos and movies into her perception of the past. Isn't that interesting?

Taking the time out of my busy task mastering role to really just hang out with my kids and talk to them feels like a worthy goal. Over the holiday break I indulged and let my chatty Cleo talk my ear off while I tickled her back before bed. She's always talkative at this time of night but most the time I'm eager to get her down, get to my couple hours of uninterrupted freedom. Or I can only see it as a ploy to stay awake longer so I tend to cut it short and sometimes even get annoyed at her long list of topics she wants to discuss at such an inopportune time. But it was so fun to just listen to her with a free ear, one hungry to hear her funny thoughts and wishes. We have discussed things like why we can't be buried in our own backyard when we die, having cake shops next to each other one day and apartments in Paris where our whole family sleeps on bunk beds, why Arctic animals have white fur, and who the oldest person we know is. Our conversations have zest and depth and I think its because I'm really listening and entertained by what she has to say. I'm being present. And often I think that's the hardest thing to do as a parent and a busy adult with adult sized worries and preoccupations, but also probably the most valuable thing I can do for my kids. I believe giving attention to others is always a gift, but giving true attention to my children is as much a gift to me as it is to them. It gives me the chance to unwrap-present-like- the daily hard work and grind of parenting and transform it into a fleeting moment of discovery and connection. Who is this person I'm so driven to love and protect and nurture anyway?

My sweet father in law always wishes me a happy birthday on my children's birthdays. It's a lovely recognition of the fact that for all us parents out there on the day our children are born a new us is born as well. Our life divides, our heart multiplies. I've never felt that more than on this 7th birthday of being a parent. Happy Birthday to me. Happy Birthday, Cleo. I am one lucky lady to know you.