I wasn’t feeling it. Not. At. All. I was exhausted, highly unmotivated, achy, and moody to boot. I was pregnant; big pregnant, but more importantly I was also the mom of little kids. And with girls aged five and two I had my hands full. I stayed home with them the majority of the time, and when my husband worked it was just me. I asked for it, I guess you could say, but some days are just harder than others. That day happened to be yesterday.
Yesterday I trudged grumpily through my day, and no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get ahold of my cheerful, optimistic-mommy mantra. I was tired, and I was especially tired of doing the same thing over and over. But that’s kinda what being a mommy of small children entails. Repetition.
As I waddled back and forth through my messy house, grumbling as I bent over clumsily to pick up discarded items, I became more and more frustrated. There were cups everywhere. Brightly colored sippee cups half full of sticky juice or spoiling milk scattered as far as the eye could see. I begrudgingly added them to the overflowing sink.
Because I was the only one who knew how to do dishes!
I angrily swiped an empty poptart wrapper off the counter.
And the only one who knows how to throw trash away!
I grabbed for a paper towel to wipe up a rogue, unidentifiable spill, but was met with an empty towel dispenser.
I was the only one who refilled the paper towels when they ran out!
My frustrations swelled, fueled by indignation, and I greedily added additional instances where I was put upon.
I was the only one who cleaned the bathroom.
Or knew what a laundry basket was.
I seemed to be the only person bothered by piles of dirt clothes, trails of abandoned toys, or crumbs on the counters and floors.
I wanted to scream, to cry, to yell at someone for my plight, but was suddenly interrupted in my thoughts by a high-pitched voice at my feet.
“I gotta pee pee!” My toddler called urgently, and I stopped midway through loading the dishwasher to rush her to the potty.
I was the only one who could put little people on the potty!
I waited as she did her business, since I would afterwards be required to help wipe her bottom, and I glanced down at her impatiently. But as I looked down at my tiny daughter sitting on the huge porcelain commode I was greeted with a big smile. It swept across her face joyfully, and she called up to me, “I love you, Momma.”
I was the only one who could help her potty, by golly, and maybe that wasn’t so bad.
I was the only one who could show her how girls needed to wipe, and then how to wash her hands.
And after all, I was the only one whose lap fit just right when she first woke up in the morning, and I was the only one who could soothe her cries when someone hurt her feelings.
I was the only one who could magically make booboos disappear with my kisses, or cut the crusts off a PB&J sandwich just right.
I was the only one who could do all the voices in our favorite stories, or show you how to frost a homemade cake with flair. I was the only one who could make pigtails even, or find the favorite toy bear that had been missing all week. I certainly was the only one who could locate a wayward dress shoe.
I was the only one who gave the best mommy-snuggles, a patented treasure indeed, and I could also elicit the most adorable grins from tiny, sourpuss faces when they didn’t get their way. I was Mom, and the truth was no one could do the things I did.
But another truth remained. No one got the payout I received.
No one got the grateful smiles I produced in my offspring, and no one could understand the deep joy when they said, “I love you, Momma.”
No one felt the lovely kicks and rolls of my unborn child as she grew to perfection in my womb, and no one experienced the deep satisfaction I gained every single time I looked at my daughters’ beautiful, sleeping faces.
I was the only one who knew how that felt.
I was the only one who could heartily accept the gift of being a mother to my babies, and I was the only one who could decide to do what I do every day with joy.
So I did.
April Vanderford says
Wow! Beautiful!!
brieann.rn@gmail.com says
Thank you.
Sandra says
I love how you put a positive spin on things. I too get frustrated cause I HAVE to do everything everyone else is blind to. At the same time my children bring me joy but I must focus more on that joy and less on the frustrations.
brieann.rn@gmail.com says
Thank you.