I AM Mother


Who am I? –Ramakrishna’s meditative question

Arms of Children


I am mother


I am the mother who holds her child’s foot as he drifts to dreamland. The mother who creates play lists for a peaceful birth and never pushed play. I am the mother who carries guilt as a heavy fisted knot between her shoulder blades. Who thinks she is not enough to her children. Doing enough art projects, taking them enough places, exposing them to new things. I yell. I cry. I plead. I ask them why?!


I am the mother who worries, is anxious, frets and plans. Who wants perfection and sometimes misses the good right in front of her. The good enough right before her eyes.


I am the mother, the woman, who wants so much for her children. Who expects so much from herself. Who holds herself to unattainable standards. Who feels like a failure. Who longs for peace. For the feeling of being enough, just as she is.


I want my children to feel like enough. They are more than enough. They are precious, messy miracles. I want them to just be them. Made of and by and for love. They are everything contained in human form. They are made of the stuff of stars. Phenomenal. I NEVER want them to doubt their importance or significance in this world. I hope they know how much I love them, how much the Universe loves them. How much they are needed in this world. I want them to feel it in their core. Recognize it in their soul.


I want them to feel the deep yet subtle connections of comfort, love and home from who I am. Not from what I do (or don’t do). I want them to know I loved the smell of them, their hair, their morning breath, their milky baby breath, their cereal milk pee pants. I hope they feel my love when I touch them as we play, kiss them before they eat, hold them close to my heart when I squeeze them close. I cook for them to let them taste the hope I have for them to be strong and full of life and energy. I want their idea of love to be pure, clean and simple. Always present, surrounding all and never giving up.


I am the mother who takes a picture of her children everyday. Looks back on theses pictures with wonder and awe. I am the one who writes a bit each day about the things I love. Mostly about them. I am the woman who holds and touches her Littles as often as possible while still being the person who doesn’t want to be touched. I am the mother who looks deep into their bottomless eyes and see the universe. Perfect. Whole. Complete. I am being Momma Zen.


My children are my mark in the book of the universe. They are my legacy.


What moments will they remember when looking back on their childhood?



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