It's lunchtime around here, which today went something like this:
Make kids lunch: The latest request from my kids is a bread, butter and jelly sandwich. I don't know what peanut butter did to deserve such a profound rejection, but for my kids at least, PB isn't invited to J's party. Add to the plate some cheetos (because I'm a 'fun mom!' who does things like that), and give the boy a yogurt, as he has a massive addiction to dairy products. Take drink orders by stating "water or milk?" and then wait the 0.3 seconds it takes for child #1 to ask for lemonade. Get everyone settled at the table, have kid #2 say a prayer to bless the food, during which kid #3 shouts out what should be included, "bless the water!"
Make myself lunch: Return to the counter to fix myself a sandwich--not jelly & butter. Barely finish putting the last piece of homegrown lettuce (so good!) on my perfect looking sandwich when the boy calls out "uh-oh, spill!" Abandon my untouched sandwich to marvel at how a boy with a bib on managed to get half his yogurt on his shirt. Start walking towards my sandwich when child #2 asks for more milk. Get her more milk, eye my sandwich lovingly as I approach it, and hear child #1 asking for more cheetos. Spend the next minute or so explaining how one serving of cheetos is enough, while my sandwich grows impatient and threatens to eat itself. Finally sit down to take a bite of my amazing sandwich, when the boy decides he's done and begins to leave the table with cheeto fingers. Leap up to wet-paper-towel the fingers, notice child #2 is finished, ask her to carry her plate over to the sink, realize I wasn't specific enough when only her plate, not her cup or napkin, makes it's way off the table. Sit down to eat another bite while fending off more pleas for cheetos from child #1 who at this moment is clearly dying of starvation. Convince her the begging is futile, get her to clear her dishes, and finally manage to snarf down my sandwich before wrangling the boy into his crib for a much needed nap:
"Time for a nap."
"Why?" (his new favorite question)
"Because you're cranky and mommy's cranky and we'll both be less cranky if you have a nap."
"Okay."
If I were a "mommy blogger" this would be the part where I say I'm so blessed to be a mom and I love every minute of it! While that first part is absolutely true, the last part is a lie every mother tells herself. You love your kids. You love being a mom. But you don't love, you can't love, some of the unpleasant, inconvenient parts of motherhood. There's no love for the puddle of mystery pee in the powder room that all of your kids deny any knowledge of. There's no love for vomit on the carpet or bruises inflicted by a hard toddler skull cracking against mommy's face (remind me to tell you about that sometime).
I love my kids. I am so grateful that they're mine and that they appear to have fewer faults than I do. I wish I could be one of those perpetually perky parents who finds joy in mundane mothering tasks. But, I don't know... maybe we'd all be better off if we admitted to each other that occasionally, from time to time, every once in awhile, parenting isn't fun. So, here I am, putting it out there:
Motherhood is a blessing. Motherhood teaches you how to be unselfish (it forces you to be unselfish, if we're being completely honest). Motherhood has so many rewards, like the daily hugs, and smiles, and "I love you's". But it is HARD. And sometimes, when you run out of patience or make a bad parenting decision, you really do feel like a failure.
It helps to realize that even though I had to meet everyone's needs before my own, that sandwich still tasted great. (Can you tell how much I liked my sandwich?) Maybe that's the lesson I needed to learn today.
