I'm not sure why the last week has been hard for me.
My husband's been getting on my nerves, the kids are too loud, I'm always one step behind at work, the house is a wreck and the dogs won't shut up. It's been one of those times where you count down until bedtime at 8:00 p.m. and then climb into bed at 8:01.
As a mother, life gets hard for no apparent reason. Everybody always wants something: a bandaid, a kiss, a piece of chocolate, a drink, a diaper change, permission to ride their bike or someone to play, read or color with. Husbands want someone to tell their day to, to pull together dinner, to call about a bill, to gripe about work with and a partner to binge-watch Mad Men. Working moms have to pack lunches the night before, drive in traffic, meet deadlines, answer emails, remember everything on their to-do list and do it all with a smile and patience. Then, we have to switch gears, leave, pick up the kids who want a bandaid, a kiss, a piece of chocolate, and, well, you get the picture.
Motherhood is like this juggling act where someone keeps throwing balls into the rotation. Just when you get used to juggling three, here comes the fourth. It's just a lot to handle.
This morning I was so tired. Jackson is 6 and a half, so that means I've been sleep deprived for six and a half years. It may have been watching Netflix a little too late last night, or the fact that it's Thursday and it's been a busy week. I knew I had to get up, but I just didn't want to yet. Jackson had already nudged me to ask about trash day. (If you have a boy with a trash truck obsession, you'll know what I'm talking about.) When I heard him again, I had to reach down deep for patience as he placed something on my back. I figured it was another trash can.
To my surprise, it was a plate with breakfast on it. My son, the one with dirt under his toenails and no inside voice, had brought me breakfast in bed. He even made me coffee and added in my creamer. When I asked why he made me breakfast in bed, he just shrugged and said: "I thought it would be nice."
Well, nice indeed; it might have been the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me. The last week just seemed to melt away. And then he said: "Oops, hold on, let me get your toast. I dropped it in the hall." That is the moment, friends, when it became perfect.
Yes, being a mom is hard. It's probably the toughest job I'll ever have. But I need to say this: it soaks in. Just when you think the repetition and the sacrifice is going to drown you. When you walk by a mirror and wonder who that person is with the extra 15 pounds, new crinkles around their eyes and peanut butter on their shirt. Moms, it is being noticed.
A mother's love soaks in. It's forming who they are while changing who you are. And that moment when it gets sprinkled back your way... wow. It is the very best feeling in the world.
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