An open apology to my oldest daughter ...

I have three children who are the light of my life, my reason for being, and a daily reminder of God's grace upon me (for which I am most truly not deserving).  However, I would be lying to myself if I didn't state that the last year has come with its share of obstacles after our third child was born.  While even as a child myself I always dreamt of a large family, I never knew the stress that would come from having three kids that were three years and younger, and the pressure and guilt I would feel that somehow I was failing to give them all the adequate attention and love that they needed and deserved. ....

This leads me to the topic of my current post, my oldest daughter. 

My first child (our oldest daughter) was born in the morning on a Thursday in 2009, because even though we had set an induction date for her that day, she showed us early on that she makes her own rules, and I went into labor at midnight the night BEFORE her scheduled induction date.  I knew then that she was destined to be the "first born", because even as a young child she has shown the ambition, leadership, and confidence that psychologists are always preaching about when debating birth order philosophies.  Being a first born daughter myself, it is her willfulness that I most admire about her (which coincidentally drives me utterly insane on any given day), because I see myself directly coming through in her personality.  However, it is this independence that she exhibits that makes me forget an important fact about her ... Even though she has an abundance of talents (most of which haven't even come to light yet) she is still only four years old.  She is not physically capable of making her own decisions, nor should she be, and she is still looking to me for guidance and support, of which I feel every day that I am lacking in providing her.

So today of all days, I have decided to adamantly apologize to her for not being there when she has needed me.  For not realizing that even though she is not a baby like our youngest, she still needs cuddles. ... For not recognizing that even though she is old enough to walk when we go to the store (unlike her two year old brother), she still likes to be carried, or at the very least enjoys holding my hand ... For scolding her for making a mess when she was feeling the the need to be creative ... For not letting her play when she was feeling the need to be silly... For not acknowledging the "treasures" she brought home from school (albeit heavily resemble trash), because I was too busy tending to her crying baby sister ... For not listening more intently to her story about how she got to dance to "Frozen" during dance class, and how the teacher allowed her to be the one to turn off the lights for the big "performance", because I was trying to keep her brother from giving his food to our dog under the table.  ... For all of the "just one second[s]", "in a minute[s]," and "not right now[s]", I am so very sorry, and I truly apologize from the bottom of my heart.

So far you don't seem to be holding a grudge against me for my shortcomings as a mother, and I desperately hope you can continue to show the compassion you have shown your first four years of life well into adulthood.  I hope you realize when you are a grown women, with a family of your own, that I was doing my best to balance my life as a career woman, wife, and mother.  I hope you understand the fears I faced regarding falling short of your expectations, and am proud of me for how I handled (or attempted to handle) the struggles of life as a working mom of three little ones.  Last but not least, I hope you know that I love you (and your siblings) something fierce, and the biggest reward, and most fulfilling duty I have found in life, has been being awarded the title of your mother.

The full cart ...

While making an unplanned trip to Target a couple of weeks ago, I was forced to take all three kids with me.  Usually, I am not brave enough to battle public perception with all three little ones in tow, because unlike other people's children, mine see the red Target sign, and the giant red cement balls out in front of the store, and they take that as their cue to run around like crazy maniacs. They grab at anything and everything within arms reach, request the purchase of completely unnecessary items ("I know that I have never had 'Hello Kitty' lipstick, mommy, but I REALLY NEED IT!"), and always believe that their terrible behavior warrants a hot chocolate from Starbucks promptly upon exit.  This, in addition to the fact that with all of them in the cart (littlest still in the infant carrier), I am unable to purchase anything other than a small box of cereal, which makes the visit to the store completely counterproductive to its purpose.

As a side bar, in most instances while running errands, my husband and I will check out our children like library books ("I will take the oldest with me now, and then I will take the two younger ones with me this afternoon"), because him and I agree that being alone with all three of them by yourself can be overwhelming.  With two parents to three kids, we can sub each other in if necessary.  But playing iron man with our three kids, ages four and under, can be exhausting at best.  However, because we were in desperate need of a baby monitor for my littlest that we are transitioning into the crib, and a few grocery necessities, I found myself brave enough to battle the red bull's eye solo with my brood.

When we pulled into the parking lot, I chose the spot as close to a cart return as possible.  My hope was that DHS wouldn't be called for parental abandonment as I left the kids in the car, in order to track down a cart, so we could all four make it safely into the store.  Luckily, a woman was leaving close by where I parked, she saw my panic (mothers can sense fear in other mothers), and she sweetly gave me the cart she was using with a look of sympathy on her face.

As we got everyone into the store, my daughter noticed the 8 foot giant family cart behind a pile of normal carts, and requested we use it so she could have a place to sit. Although I really hate the 8 foot giant family cart, I thought it was probably the only way I would be able to: 1) keep track of all my children, 2) keep them from grabbing random things off of shelves and sneaking them into the cart only be found at checkout, 3) have room to actually buy more than one item.  So as a necessary evil, I began the process of getting everyone their place in the 8 foot giant family cart.

It was at that time that a random stranger noticed me struggling to get the older two strapped in, and offered to lug the baby (infant seat and all) into the empty cart area.  After sort of chuckling, he said to me, "[W]ow, you really have your hands full ... and ... your cart."  I laughed back, and made some sort of joke about how my kids and I always know how to make a grand entrance, and promptly thanked him for his help.  However, after he walked off, and I was able to step back for a second and re-group, it was at that time I realized exactly what he had said. 

Yes, my cart was indeed full. ... And even though my shopping adventure hadn't even begun, and I had yet to purchase one single item, I realized at that moment that my cart had everything I could ever possibly want and/or need.   It was filled with items that money can't buy like love, laughter, and three of the most amazing (yet at times mischievous) blessings that God has ever given me.  And, for the first time, I was grateful for my need to use the 8 foot giant family cart (for which I have grown a love/hate relationship).

Now, did we have a completely uneventful trip? Were my children the well behaved angels that in my perfect world they should be, where no tantrums are thrown, and no items are secretly tossed into the cart? ... Not by a LONG SHOT. ... In fact, some highlights of the trip included my oldest becoming hysterical because I wouldn't let her buy a 'Sofia the First' camping canteen ("But Mommy, I NEED IT!"), the baby getting upset (and rightfully so) because one of the older siblings threw a bag of frozen veggies on her head, and my son leaving a spill trail of his "reward for not so wonderful behavior" hot chocolate from the Starbucks counter to the exit (of which I had to assist the Target greeter in cleaning up prior to leaving the store).

However, as I finally made my way to the car, I felt an overwhelming sense of peace at that moment.  Because after looking at my kids giant hot chocolate mustaches, and their smiling faces, I was again reminded of what the friendly stranger had pointed out. .... My cart is FULL!