On Life as Their Mother

 

 

when bath time lasts a little longer than you'd like and your hair and clothes and bathroom floor are a lot wetter than you'd like because those exuberant little bathtubbers can't be counted on to contain their splashing.
 

when you can count on the uneven crunch of cheerios underfoot to remind you it's time to vacuum the rug again and you should probably check under the sofa cushions too.

 

when after two bedtime stories, one cup of water, a trip to the bathroom and at least twenty five very important, can't wait til morning questions, you're asked to stay and snuggle for just two more minutes, pleeeeeease.

 

when, on your seventeenth month of nursing, you're still getting up at least once, but usually twice a night and stumbling sleepy eyed and disoriented in to the nursery to calm a weepy baby the way only you can.

 

when, even though you swear you just cleaned that window yesterday, those tiny handprints are right back where they left them before. Maybe even a couple more have been added, just for good measure.

when you know the only way to manage a diaper change these days is to distract a wiggly baby who has no time or patience for such trivial tasks by playing the "I smell your stinky feet" game, complete with gasps, coughing and very dramatic faces.

 

when you slump through the door, exhausted from the work day and grateful to be home only to find the monsters and dragons and zombies are already there waiting for you, ready to do battle before you've even had a chance to check the mail.

 

when you know the way to get those dreaded veggies down is best executed with an airplane bite and a little tickling.

 

when you don't even notice the top of the lungs shrieking and shouting that comes along with playtime anymore but the minute all you can hear is silence, your mama ears perk right up and you know there's trouble afoot.

 

when you know you're a little less put together than you'd like, your house a little more messy, and when you know you'll likely be tired as far in to the future as you can see. It's okay.

 

Be grateful for the two more minutes of snuggling, for that sweet nursing baby in your arms and those sticky handprints on the window. Because you get to be their mother.

 

 

And that's a pretty sweet gig.