Protect Your Heart, Mama

When my daughter was still in that glorious napping stage of life, I would oftentimes send my boys up to get her out of her crib. I would do this if I was busy with dishes, or grading, or making lunches. I would often say half-jokingly, half-seriously, “Protect your heart, guys. We don’t know how she’ll wake up from her nap. Don’t take it personally if she lashes out.”

She had two types of waking: incredibly ecstatic or hibernating bear angry. If I had to ask my boys for help, I wanted them to be prepared for the bear. It was just how she rolled.

Now that all my children are older and sadly, totally over the 2-hour naps, I still use this phrase. Especially during the quarantine. I tell my oldest, “Yes, we can plan to meet your friends at the lake, six feet apart, for some quality fishing time. But protect your heart if he can’t go. We’re all trying to decide what’s right as parents during COVID.” He takes it as sarcasm, but I don’t want him to be bummed if it can’t work. 

Protect Your Heart, Honey

I tell my daughter to protect her heart if there is a toy she has saved up for that isn’t available at the store we’ve chosen. 

And I tell my middle to protect his heart if his team doesn’t win because we’re all out to have fun. And the competition is fun. (Let’s be honest. I want to win just as much, but I’m here to help him through a loss. Maybe I say it so I can hear it, too?)

It Is Going So Fast

These are first-world disappointments, but it’s our family’s mantra, and I don’t want it to go away.

As they age and pull away like they are supposed to, I realize after telling my babes to protect their hearts over things in a silly way, as a precaution, or as a “don’t get your hopes up” warning, I realize, I wish I would have taken my own advice. They are getting older, and man, I should have protected my heart. This is some hard stuff.

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My oldest has always been too independent, too cool, and too sure he has it all figured out, so you’d think I’d be ready for him fleeing the nest more and more, and wanting that darned freedom that’s so hard to give. Not quite. When he mows our lawn, I still picture him mowing as a toddler with that plastic toy mower that spewed bubbles. He’d be checking the gas as his dad did and he’d make sure the lines in the lawn were straight. It was like he knew exactly who he wanted to be at 2-years-old. 

Growing Too Fast

My middle has always been very close to me, so I absolutely wasn’t prepared when he stopped wanting so many hugs, and when he began to do more on his own. While his older brother made independence his thing, I never prepared for the time I’d be missing my middle by my side because he wanted to be with his friends. The older he gets, the more I realize my 12-year-old isn’t immune to that natural tendency to flee the nest and find happiness in the presence of friends more than family. His measure of success is how many times he gets to make people laugh, ride bikes with a pal, or play video games with friends. I forgot to protect my heart for this, and it’s aching a bit more these days.

That leaves my darling almost 9-year-old daughter. She still wants to hang out with me no matter what we’re doing. She still wants to snuggle, to put on makeup, to dance to Kelly Clarkson. She’s not crazy about nature, but she’ll indulge my need to hike in the forest or go with her brothers and me when we search new terrain for a fishing spot. But I know the need for separation is coming. And even as I tell myself, “Protect your heart” I can’t help but feel the sting of a very important time in my motherhood life that is ending.

My kids are doing what I did, what their father and I want them to do (if we’re honest), and what every child at their age does. They are becoming independent people, finding their own way, and achieving their own goals. That is exactly what they should do, and I’m so glad we’ve provided them the space to do that. But still…I forgot to protect my heart.

They Are My Heart

I tell myself I’ve still got time. I’ve got three years left with my oldest in the house, and his brother and sister will be here, too. But I’m a planner, and even though I could have never prepared for the loss of their absolute dependence on me, I can try with all of my might to protect my heart from their growth. It won’t work, but as each milestone comes up, I promise to warn my own mama brain in a whisper, “Protect your heart” because time moves so fast, and they don’t stay as little as they should for long. 

What about you? Have you felt these “Protect your heart” mama moments recently?