You know that feeling when you keep trying and trying and working and doing it different and still you can’t finish? You can’t accomplish even a small task like making a new blog header or writing up a great recipe or matching all the socks?
I knew you’d know what I’m talking about.
That’s kind of where I’ve been these past couple weeks. Christmas kicks my tail every time, people. It’s hard. And busy. And stressful. And lots of traveling.
Then it’s over and it gets a little quiet and we still have ten days before school starts back and trying to find words for days of overwhelming chaos and quiet just seemed like a little too much for me.
So I waited until today. Today I’m home with one RSV-recovering baby who just cried himself to sleep, one sticky kitchen floor that hasn’t seen a mop since Thanksgiving, and two rooms of little girls that are in desperate need of a Lego-sorter. Today I’m beginning my new year with a confession.
Sometimes I don’t like motherhood.
You’re probably not shocked. I write about that struggle quite a bit. But it’s hard to admit. We’re supposed to love it, right? Every moment, every milestone, every milk-filled cup left under the carseat. Except sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I want to put on real clothes and give instructions to people who actually listen and be respected for being a productive member of society.
Motherhood doesn’t always make me feel productive.
I’m not good at just playing. I’m terrible at following through with chore charts and sticker rewards. My kids aren’t the best listeners and they almost never remember to pick up their toys without being asked. We make grocery store cashiers cringe when they see that car buggy coming with two on top and one beneath in perfect violation of the warning labels. I can start the day with a full sink of dishes and somehow, after two rounds of the dishwasher, end with a sink full of dirty dishes. Today Annabelle couldn’t wear new clothes to school because she wore them all last week and I haven’t done their laundry yet. Oh, and somewhere under the blue sparkly toothpaste blobs, I have a bathroom sink.
But here’s my true confession of the new year:
They went back to school today and for the first time since I started this motherhood journey, I wanted to have more time.
You see, despite all that unproductivity, all that fumbling around I do to make things better, all those piles of laundry and dishes and toys all over my floor, I have finally unlocked a secret to being a better mom to my kids.
Delight. I delight in them, in their silly stories and gapped teeth and ridiculous tantrums.
Oh, they still drive me crazy. Sometimes I still want to run away. But this year, this year I feel awake. I feel alive. I feel awed by who they are and who they are becoming. I truly, finally, feel the blessing that motherhood can be.
It only took me eight years to get here.
So if you’re just beginning this journey of mothering, or if you’re stuck in the middle and stumbling around like me, or even if you’ve finally made it to the other side of the little years, I hope you find some encouragement here.
This year I’m going to focus on growing this blog and I’d love to have you help me. So, please, share it, tweet it, pin it if my words meant something to you!
Blessings for 2013!