Motherhood is just a series of “push/pull” exercises. Sometimes you want your children to go far far away just so you have a moment of peace to breath and exist. Other times you want to hold them so close that there is no end to you and start to them.

An example of push: I have 3 amazing peony bushes in the yard. The blooms are glorious and I watch with anticipation as they get to the point where they burst open. A beautiful pink flower with an amazing aroma. They are my favorite and I do not tire of looking at them. When I cut one, I place a simple bloom in a little vase by my bed to smell and look at. The problem is Hadley loves flowers too. No matter how sneaky I am, she always notices the fragile bloom by my bed and insists on putting it in her room. She is not gentle. She does not take care. There is a lot of grabbing and pulling. The first bloom I gave in and let her have it. It was dead soon afterwards and its beauty was wasted. I can’t remember the last time I felt like that. It probably sounds ridiculous but I am constantly sacrificing stuff. “Sure, Hadley, you can have my bagel.” “Ok, Baby, you can take my pillow.” …whatever the case may be. For some reason with these flowers, I had just had enough and said NO. The next time I cut a single beautiful bloom and she said “I want it, Mom!” I said “No” I felt so silly not letting her have a simple flower but it was the principal of the thing. It was something that made me happy, even if just for a moment and I was keeping it.

And now an example of “pull”: We were driving to gymnastics last week and Hadley was singing and talking to herself per usual when she stopped and said “Mom? Are you going to be there the whole time I’m growing up?”

I felt a lump in my throat and it was almost as if someone had taken my heart and squeezed it really hard like one of those squishy foam things that you get at trade shows and doctor’s offices.

“Yes, sweet face, I will be there the entire time you’re growing up.” I said smiling at her through the rear view window.

“Oh, good. That makes me happy, mommy.”

Gulp.

Speaking of motherhood, I had this epiphany the other morning while I was trying to make coffee, feed the dog, hold Finn and get Hadley some cereal all at the same time. It’s a little loose but you’ll get the idea. If you are fertile, you have to, by law, log so many hours as an intern for another mother. Let’s say 1 year of service to another mother. Not slavery, mind you but 1 year of let’s say 20 hours a week or something. That way mothers are given help that they need and future mothers are shown what they are in for. They may decide “This is not for me” or it may further drive them to be a great mother. Hm. Interesting. I’ll have to think about this more.

Last night we watched the finale of CSI and LOST. CSI finale was directed by Tarantino and while it was edge of your seat, nail biting suspenseful, it had that Tarantino touch that rubs me the wrong way these days. I find his gratuitous use of violence trite and obnoxious. It was creative and fresh in Resevoir Dogs. Now it’s just stupid. Anyway, I was 5 inches from the TV, sitting on the floor and kept sighing and freaking out over poor Stokes in the coffin. And then the ANTS? Sweet jesus. I was crying a little at the end.

I can’t get the end of the LOST finale out of my head. Walt being taken away by those freaks on that other boat was just too much for me. I was tossing and turning thinking about it. I just have “Deliverance” visions in my head. It ended and I turned to Peter freaking out saying “How will Michael find him? Where is Sawyer? What are they going to do??” It was just too much for me.

So now it is summer time TV. Time to catch up on shows I missed. Top of the list are: House and Grey’s Anatomy.