I became a mom at age 26 when I gave birth to my daughter via natural childbirth, at home.  She was born in an hour and a half but I’m not sure that had very much to do with her because she is pretty pokey.

I stayed home with her for three years and mostly enjoyed the experience of being a “stay-at-home-mom”, I can officially add that to my resume and say I understand what it takes.

I raised my daughter with enough autonomy to fill a stadium and she has had a cheering section to go with it.  I feel really good about this.  One of my biggest missions in motherhood was for my daughter (bolded, because she’s a girl) to always feel safe and comfortable with my physical body- meaning she can hold my hand, she can squeeze my face, she can tickle my pits, and she can snuggle with me anytime- and forever.  I can’t touch my mom- FINALLY hugs are okay but I had to work hard for that.  Evan is a brave girl and she is unafraid to say what she thinks yet she’s much more relaxed about it than I was- I think she knows she doesn’t have to fight for it- it’s just okay.  I hope this gift makes up for all the stuff she will question me about later with flared nostrils and bulging eyes…

Six years later- almost to the day- I have my son, Nash.  (Also a homebirth but this time in 45 minutes, seriously.)  My children have different dads but the same due date, exactly!  So, now I have two Leo’s and a very expensive month on my hands.  My son was breech and I had to have a manual version OUCH to flip him around and then he was born two days later.  It all makes sense now though.  He does not want to do anything he “supposed” to do.  This makes communication very interesting.  I am soo glad I understand communication and to the degree that I teach classes on it, because boy, do I have to get creative with this little guy.  Especially when a rock is about to fly in my face.  “NO” is not an option, “OVER THERE!” works much better.  If I had said, “OVER THERE” with my daughter at age two, she would have stopped and looked at me with a tilted head and asked me, “why are you telling me to throw it over there?  I want to throw it at your face and it’s not going to hit your face if I throw it over there- you aren’t making any sense mommy.”

Understanding (and tolerating) my kids’ personalities is important to me.  They are clearly different people.  I felt very misunderstood as a child and, therefore, unaccepted.  Hopefully I do enough to accept my kids that it will outshine the “WHY are you being yourself?!” moments that flare up.

I love my kids, I love being a mom and I love being a working mom with a flexible schedule so I get to spend lots of time with them- yet taking them to school does not make me sad- well, sometimes it does.