Will they Know?

Lately, I fall asleep worrying and wake up worrying. I don't know why I do this, or why it comes in such waves -- it is just part of who I am, I guess.  I worry about how much I've been working; I worry about whether my girls know that when I'm not physically with them, my heart aches TO be with them.  That during the day, even when I'm at my desk downtown, I'm still "mama" even when I'm also wearing my lawyer hat. In between work assignments and calls, I'm scheduling appointments, fighting for services, figuring out how we'll make certain things they need happen, texting our nanny to check in, worrying whether Sammie B is enjoying PT and cooperating or not enjoying and not cooperating (on a day where its the latter, my heart sinks as I once again wish my girl didn't have to work so stinking hard, and I want more than anything to bolt from my desk and go home and hold her) and missing them both like crazy.  I worry that I'm always just the day care drop-off person, the legs Mia clings to on her clingy mornings, while B gets to do pick up and be the arms she runs to at the end of her day.  I worry that in the evenings, when I'm playing and have to stop to answer a call or respond quickly to email messages from work that they will think I'm not fully "present" with them, and I so, so want them to know they are my number one.  My absolute number one.  I want them to know that even though my lawyer hat often bleeds into my mama time, being mama is always the hat that matters most.  I worry that they'll someday resent that I wasn't the one coming home every day at a normal time, fun and ready to play.  I'm glad that B is in a position to do that.  I'm glad that we have him.  But at the same time, I worry they won't know that they were my number one. I worry they won't understand that a big (HUGE) part of why I do the job I do, is because it allows me (us) to provide things for them we might not otherwise be able to do.  I wonder if someday they'll understand this, and I hope they feel more proud of me than resentful.  As worry (these and others, new and old) threaten to rob me of my joy and my "presence," I'm struggling to enjoy the minute simple moments (a phrase I'm stealing from my friend H), like these:  

  

May THESE moments define us. In THIS moment, my heart felt absolutely full and perfect.  May I learn to keep the worry from robbing me of the joys of the moments like these. If I could live in THIS moment, 24 hours a day, I think I would.  Because moments like THIS one are the ones where everything else -- all the worry -- just melt away and my life feels like complete perfection.   

In my extended family, we've had a tragedy in the last few days that has made me really look at the roles everyone plays/has played . . . and here's the thing . . . whenever I think of my own mother, I think of love. Pure, undying, unconditional, intense love.  She has, for 36 years, loved her children with the most unending, unconditional, intense and pure love.  Loved us so hard it hurt her sometimes, I know that.  And even though I might be able to pick some some imperfections in my mom, when I describe her to others, I always say she's the most loving, nurturing, take-care-of-everyone-else-on the planet, genuine person on earth.  And I want, more than anything, to model that same love for my girls.  I want them to grow up and know that their mama loved them to the ends of the earth and back.  Crazy, unending, unconditional, pure, and intense love. The kind of love that takes my breath away. The kind my mama taught me. That's what I want them to know.  That even on my worst days, they still take my breath away.   

These two little ladies are my heart.  I love them with every fiber of my being, every inch of my soul.