Mama Bear

Two weeks from today, my children, husband and I will wake up together in our new home. (And by together, I mean that my husband will probably be on a couch and Coulter will probably be at the foot of our double bed and Emma Claire will probably be sleeping on my shoulder.) O.K., so together is relative, and for that matter, “new home” is also relative because we will actually be waking up in a campus house that has been serving as an office for two coaches. Bottom line: we will be waking up under the same roof and I am thankful for it! Come to think of it, my parents and their new dog, CoCo will also be there helping to welcome us into our new home.


This is exciting. This is what I’ve prayed for. This is scary.

A couple of nights ago, my children and I were cuddled up in bed reading “The New Bear at School” by Carrie Weston and Tim Warnes. At first, I encouraged Coulter to try reading even though I knew it was above his level. He was making his way pretty well though---sounding out and trying his best, when Emma Claire blurted out, “MOM! I don’t want Coulter to read. He doesn’t even know the words.” Discouraged by a precocious (which we all know is just a nice word for bossy) 2 year old, Coulter stopped reading and asked me to finish. I didn’t want to read either though, because by that time I had started crying. In case you’ve never tried, I will tell you it’s a little hard to cry and read at the same time. I know this, because I also cry whenever we read “The Night Before Kindergarten” even though that was over 100 school days ago (and I know this because we just had a 100 days party!) Anyway, I’m not exactly sure why ‘ol Boris the bear moved me to tears. I think in part it was out of complete astonishment at how Coulter is learning to read (despite what his sister may think) and partly, too, out of the pure exhaustion of parenting, but mostly it was Boris.

Boris is new in school and as you can imagine, there are some challenges that come with being the new kid. The other children were expecting a teddy bear, or a “bear in Wellingtons and a blue coat.” They were not expecting Boris, “an enormous, hairy, scary grizzly bear.” Boris had to eat alone. He had to sit alone. He had to play alone. It all hit a little too close to home. I quickly composed myself, finished the book and moved on to Coulter’s library book about maggots and other “GROSS” creatures of the universe. (For once, could he please just pick out a nice book about butterflies?) And note to self: you can no longer spell in front of Coulter, especially if you are saying that something is G-R-O-S-S and you don’t want him to know, because as he turns out he knows that spells gross. You also shouldn’t say things like, “I didn’t know the garage door was down and I almost K-I-L-L-E-D our children.” Coulter asked me what I was talking about and I said, “Oh, I was just telling your Dad how we forgot to put up the garage door,” to which he replied, “Oh, I thought you said you “almost killed us.”

Later in the night, still in a funk from that silly bear book, I called my Mother. “Coulter’s going to be fine. He’s going to make lots of new friends and the children are going to love him. This is exciting. This is what you’ve prayed for.” This is scary.

I know Coulter is not Boris. Coulter is not hairy and Emma Claire is not sca….well, actually, she does scare me a little bit. She’s a second born who acts like a first born. She is strong-willed; opinionated and, is like her brother (and ughm, her dad) in that she is, oh how shall I say this, a very effective delegator. “Mom, you will not brush my teeth. You do not need a turn. I will have a turn and then I am done. O.K? O.K. Yes, that is a good idea. I am two and I CAN do it. I NEED do it.” Yes, sometimes scary but not in a grizzly bear way.

In the end of course, I am Boris. A little bit hairy; a little bit scary, or more to the point, a little bit scared. But I’m also very excited about the move and excited to be Boris, because for next several months I get be nothing more than a Momma Bear; not a teaching bear, not a singing bear, just a Momma Bear taking care of her cubs and helping to create a new home for her family. (A new home that I really, really hope has a Jacuzzi tub….yes; a Jacuzzi tub just might this whole experience much less scary for dear Boris!!)