I was the oldest of 6.
I was dictator, sister and mother. . .depending on the day. Sometimes all in one day or one hour.
And I said I would never have my own. . .
Then here I am at 33. . .
There are now three since one generally seems to do all the things they say they never will when they are 16, do they not?
I find myself walking by them as they do whatever they wish at the moment and saying, "I love you, Babies," though I rarely stop to join in with their endeavors.
They answer, "Love you, Mommy."
I am unsure words mean as much as one on one time I forget or fail to give more often than I'd like.
They are 14, 7 and 5. . . Not really babied, but my babies.
While I could not be considered motherly, and I have never been as interactive as I'd like to be, I've managed to take them with me most all placed I've gone whether they wished to tag along or not. They have seen all sorts of "real life" moments a lot of adult never see, as well.
Somehow these wild boys are happy. They are all happy. . .and original - one of a kind souls.
While I've done less with them than I wish I had so far. . .and while wonder if I've pursued my own ends more than I ought, as a mother, as each day closes, I am aware these three boys are confident, loud, eccentric and ask rather the most uncomfortable "thinking" questions you could fathom. . .
So, I suppose, both in spite of and because of me. . .they are growing into some folks worth knowing.