The older two for years fought bitterly. Sibling bickering had to be some of the worst times of mothering. No amount of teaching, or trying to painfully hear both sides, was enough for them to finally get along. I think they grew out of it. He went to school and the hours apart seemed to calm things, though it had started to settle down by then. By the time they were riding daily in the car together to and from school, and to and from practice, and to and from Wednesday night youth group activities, you’d never know.

The younger boys were different. They didn’t fight, and still don’t. They may have fought when they were little, but it was never like the first ones. As a mom you just want your kids to be happy and the best times were when everybody was together. The younger boys and I went to pick up the middle one from town where the bus drops them off at the other local Lutheran grade school. I had my reasons for choosing the school I did. One seemed more private, the other more parochial. None of them are ever perfect.

On the way home from the bus stop we stopped at the store. I wanted to pick up something for the circuit pastor’s cookout/potluck. Josh already picked up the meat but I wanted to add something else for the table. He’s down in St. Louis for the day with his dad. My mother-in-law has been at the hospital with him for over a week and needed some time to come home and do things. They’re hoping to move him back to a closer facility soon for rehab but won’t be able to do so until at least the first of next week.

The boys came in and picked out their drinks. These are kind of moments I feel like I missed with my older son. I know we had them, especially with the homeschooling. On one of the days we brought the kittens with us to the coffee shop drive through. He loved those kind of spontaneous adventures. I did too, and tried to provide them whenever I could. Of all of them he was the hardest to homeschool which surprised me because I thought by far he’d be the easiest. He was in many ways, also freeing me up.

I’d give him work to keep him occupied, and he would speed through every page. The mistake I often made was then to try and give him more. He’d get his work done fast so he could do other things. I insisted that someone with his abilities and intellect needed to be learning as much as he could, taking advantage of this unique and fleeting period of time when he currently had nearly limitless opportunities. And then we would fight ourselves but at the time I couldn’t see it. He wanted to be a kid, not a scholar.

When we stopped having kids it felt like I was finally able to start catching up. The big kids just continued getting bigger and bigger. But with every baby I was locked in time, getting farther and farther away. I was starting all over. He always liked to play with the babies and was affectionate with the little ones. He was the one who suffered most when we moved away from his school. I knew kids grieved, and that he was grieving. What I didn’t know was how to give it time and be patient. To be his mother even now.