motherhood is about physically restraining yourself from squeezing your child too hard because you just love them that. much. Other days, motherhood is about physically restraining yourself from going to the school in order to give your collective children “slaps to the head”(inside family joke) for the fact that one of them crudely tore open a 5lb bag of sugar in order to put a table spoon of it on their cereal. When there was a container full of sugar sitting happily in easy reach in the pantry, not to mention a sugar bowl on the counter. (The fact that they are putting sugar on their cereal at all is an annoyance and outrage in its own right).
Some days motherhood is about marveling in the wisdom, intelligence and compassion of your children. Other days it is about wondering how the h-e double hockeysticks they could be so idiotic, cruel and thoughtless as to use your precious, precious, expensive sewing scissors which you have kept in pristine condition since you were in college, to open the tops of yogurt tubes, (only to tuck them away still wet from condensation, thus causing them to rust!)
Some days motherhood is about being so amazed and grateful that your children are so self sufficient and undemanding. Other days it is about pondering the concept of a lock and key on the pantry and a highly controlled rationing system in order to keep them from opening the 4th bag of tortilla chips and the 3rd loaf of bread while the other half full bags and loaves go stale.
Some days motherhood is about thinking you are so very blessed to stay home with your children, other days it is about feeling so sorry for yourself that your expensive education has landed you the occupation of cleaning up bunny pee for the 3rd time that day as a toddler stands behind you spitting out mangled pieces of clementine onto the kitchen floor…for you to clean up, of course all the while, a dog stands barking at the back door waiting to be let back in from her 5th jaunt that hour.
Some days motherhood is about thinking no material sacrifice is too much for the privilege of watching your children grow into healthy well rounded individuals. Other days it is about dreaming about the non-squatter-esque furniture you could buy with the money you spend on extra-curriculars.
Some days motherhood is about thrilling over the limitless future of your child, other days it is about stressing over their homework for tomorrow.
Some days motherhood is about stroking the impossibly smooth skin of your baby’s cheek while you breathe in the intoxicating smell of their hair as they sleep peacefully in the crook of your arm. Other days motherhood is about waking up to the blinding pain of a toddler’s head cracking against yours as they thrash around trying to find a comfortable spot in the mere 7/8ths of the bed allotted to them.
Some days, motherhood is about laughing at how hilariously talented your toddler is in her swift and expert navigation of your iPhone, other times you want to cry from frustration when with one swift and talented move she deletes important data from it.
Some days motherhood is about living a childhood dream as you serenely brush and braid your daughter’s long golden hair. Other days it is about living a childhood nightmare as you stoically deal with all manner of bodily fluids emanating from a kid with the flu.
Some days motherhood is about reveling in the the adult conversation you can have with your teenage son, and loving the fact that he teases you good-naturedly for your dorkiness. Other days it is about wishing he was still the sweet little boy who thought you were flawless in every way.
Some days I swear that I am going to find a full time job that takes me away from all this squalor and self sacrifice, allowing me to live like a civilized human being for at least a portion of each day (and maybe earning me enough money for a good haircut once in a while). Every day that I don’t have to, I say a quiet prayer of fervent thanks.