I don’t remember where I first found Christine but I do remember feeling awe at the sight of her blog. Yoga and surfing and a level of fitness that I aspire to but that always feels so far beyond my reach. As I kept reading, my awe just grew. Christine’s writing makes me feel as though we are sitting and chatting over a cup of coffee and whether the topic is yoga, marathons, or life parenting small children, I always come away with a fresh perspective.
Christine’s words here struck a very familiar chord for me and inspired me to remember, once again, that we Moms write our children’s childhoods and the role of ‘memory creator’ is one that deserves our effort and energy.
Read on here and then go visit Christine at Love, Life, Surf to feel the awe.
The box arrived from my mother – souvenirs from her recent trip to Germany and the Christmas markets. There was a wooden Santa truck that has 25 doors to count down the days to Christmas, a small wooden Christmas tree with tiny ornaments and a ceramic incense burner in the shape of a gingerbread house.
If you know me, you know that I don’t burn incense and our home decor veers more towards modernist than kitschy-cozy. I’m not the type to decorate my house for the holidays aside from a Christmas tree and stockings. What was I going to do with all this stuff?
Before I could put it all away in a box and shove it under the bed, my son caught sight of it. “Oh Mommy. These are beautiful. Where can we put them?”
I was about to make some excuse for why we didn’t need to decorate the house and why we didn’t need more stuff. Instead, I stopped and asked him, “Where do you want to put them?”
It’s not about me.
Growing up, I was always considered the selfish one. I was the youngest of three kids and used to getting what I wanted either because I was the baby or because my parents had already spent all their energy on my older brother and sister.
As I grew older, that selfishness grew to be considered independence. I learned to do things by myself from an early age and to rely on myself instead of others.
When I first became a mother, I had a really hard time. All of a sudden, I had this tiny little baby boy who was completely dependent on me. My schedule no longer matched my own rhythms but was dictated by his waking, eating, and napping schedule. It may seem like a rather obvious change when one becomes a parent but it was one of the biggest and hardest adjustments for me – that loss of autonomy and of doing things just for myself. While I rationally understood my new role, my gut had a harder time adjusting.
It’s not about me.
A month ago, we decided to take the boys to Disney World for the first time. I really really really really did not want to go. All I could think about was how exhausting the trip would be, the hassles and the huge potential for epic meltdowns, not to mention the expense. I was not looking forward to it.
Then we arrived. My boys’ eyes were as big as saucers and their jaws literally dropped to the ground. Seeing their faces and their pure joy made it worth it. And I was reminded once again – it’s not about me. It’s about my children and creating memories with and for them.
While our role as parents is to protect, nurture, raise and support our children, I think that our biggest role is that of memory creators. And our children? Their role is to help us look outside of ourselves and to see the magic again.
Christine is a Brooklynite, wife and mom to two boys. She is the author of the blog Love, Life, Surf where she shares her love of fitness and stories about her experiences as a mom of two young boys trying to balance work, family, fitness and healthy living. She’s a runner, yogi and fitness enthusiast who has become obsessed with surfing. She can make a good risotto and prefers mint chocolate chip ice cream.
You can find me at:
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