I Loved You Before I Knew You

Tonight we had to go to one of those awards ceremonies for one of our children and every time I attend one of those functions I’m always amazed that we’ve made it this far. I remember years when I didn’t think any of my children would learn to tie a shoe, put a dish in the dishwasher or flush a toilet. So I couldn’t begin to imagine a time when they would accomplish something noteworthy that required concentrated activity on their part. When they were little I thought I’d never get passed the mountains of diapers or the tears that seemed to turn on and off as easily as if they were on a switch. And, before my brain could even process it, we’re on to the part where they want freedom and they really, really don’t want to admit they might need you for anything.


It’s so strange to find that now there are times when my children are embarrassed by me. I’m a cool mom—at least I think so, but my kids often disagree. It’s difficult for me because I have loved these little beings since they were the size of misshapen peanuts in my belly. And I can’t walk passed a picture in our hallway without smiling and being flooded with the memories of life with little ones. Not all the memories should bring me smiles. I remember a long, long dry spell where we couldn’t eat out—no matter what. About once a year we’d give it another try, but it was always tragic—especially for the waitress that had to clean up after us. No tip was worth waiting on our table. Usually we’d wind up begging for doggie bags before we’d even worked our way through the appetizer. But now my kids have too many commitments to have time to eat out. We’re lucky to sit down to dinner together at all.

Still, I treasure those moments because the children changed me. Before them I was just me and after them I was a mom. It’s like they made me into a butterfly and gave my life depth and meaning that it just didn’t have before. I never would have guessed that having a baby could disrupt my life so completely or enrich it so much. Before them I spent every evening working on selfish pursuits, not knowing that in a few short years I’d have to do my writing in the middle of the night, practice my piano during my lunch hour, or exercise before the sun had even thinks about getting up. But having to fight for the things I want to do gives them more meaning and one of the things I fight to do is to have as much time as possible with my children.

So, this is my Valentine to them. They’ve upset my life and changed it forever and I’ll always be grateful—I’m just not going to let them read this for a few years. I’m afraid they’d use it as leverage to try and get me to buy them a new video game.