I have three kids.
And, don't misunderstand me, I love them.
Each of them.
Each of them is unique, special, precious
Not in some "special snowflake" way that exempts them from error
But as each beautiful flower has its own petals
Its own veins.
My children are individual, particular, beloved.
Worth it.
But "it" is motherhood,
And motherhood is not easy.
It's dragging sopping kids out of the bathtub again
Because they're in a splash fight
Again.
It's brushing out tangles that hurt more than my own
And answering the phone with a sigh of anticipation
Of the six interruptions that will come in the next two minutes.
It's never sitting still
And it's still having dirty dishes.
"It" is hiding in the bathroom
Wishing I had any chocolate left
But I shared it all
With sticky smiles and grabbing hands.
Motherhood,
Especially while Husband is at work,
(and I am so grateful that I have him at all!)
Is eight thousand tiny prayers
Some in words,
Some in snapshots of the toys I still haven't gotten them to pick up.
It's a vacation of a walk to the mail box
Sometimes when I've already gotten the mail today
Just because it's the only escape I have
Legally speaking.
It's a fierce ache and anxiety in my chest
If we get to leave them with a babysitter tonight
Because we haven't had a night to ourselves in so long.
So. Long.
It's feeling guilty as I type these words
Partly because I'm complaining about something so precious
That hearts break when they can't have it
That my heart would break if I didn't have it
And partly because
"I should be playing with my kids right now."
But motherhood is also–
Must be–
Self-care.
"It" is making sure nobody drowned today at the birthday party
Thank goodness
And also making sure that their little friend will love the birthday gift
Even without any guidance from her mom.
Motherhood is chasing them out of the garage
For the seventeenth time today
Because I know sooner or later if I don't
Someone is going to get hurt.
It's making sure I thank them
For every positive step
Because I know they need that reinforcement
But also
It's thanking them for wiping their bums.
Let that sink in.
Motherhood is Put that thing
Put that thing do–
Put that
Put that thing down now!
It's listening to my single friends brag that they can leave the house
Without searching for tiny shoes
Or anyone, anyone at all,
Screaming at them
But also watching a hunger in their eyes
As my child whispers,
"I love you, Mommy,"
Before she tries to go play in the garage again.
Because that's why we do all of this.
Every peanut butter sandwich
(And every time I don't make peanut butter
Because their friend is allergic)
Every filthy, nasty diaper
Every headache as I push them out to the backyard
Because I can't handle that volume anymore
Every time I steam paint out of the new carpet
Every time I frantically learn the art of locksmithing
Because she's locked in her bedroom
Every snack
And I mean every snack,
Of which there are too many to count
Every time I chase them away from the street
Or around and around with the vacuum
Or into bed again tonight
Every filled water bottle
Every mysteriously sticky spot
Every question I've already answered a hundred times
Every tissue I hold while they blow
Every time out I enforce
Every scream
Every fear
Every wish
Every hope
Every breath
Every beat of my heart
Is because I see in them
Worlds of possibility
Is because they forgive so freely
My many mistakes
Is because they love so sincerely
Is because they hug so tightly
And kiss goodnight so softly
And laugh so wildly
And enjoy so intensely
And care so deeply
And pray so lovingly
And because,
Deep down in my soul,
I know that I would be not just a better mother
But a better person
If I was more like them.
About the Creator
Brynne Nelson
I'm a wife, mother, and writer. I have a passion for crafting stories and poems and posts. Please check out my work; I hope you enjoy it! If you do, feel free to leave a tip so that I can keep generating cool content!
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