A Mom blog
Do you ever feel like every day is a deja vu?
Every morning I wake to the sound of a three year old yelling “I have to pee!!!” Once I get her to the potty, nurse the baby and proceed downstairs, hubby usually takes care of breakfast and I go for a run. On this “run” (which most days looks more like a walk), I wave to the same middle-aged man sitting on his porch reading the paper, I say ‘good morning’ to the same wiry blonde woman walking her poodle, and I chuckle at the same statue of a dainty angel holding a cigarette in her hand.
I return, we all send daddy off to work and the day goes on. Although every mess, whine, chore, or errand isn’t the same every day, it can certainly feel like it! How did this toilet get so filthy!? I just cleaned it….or wait, was that a week ago already!? How did these crayons get spilled all over the floor?…didn’t I just pick these up? Where’s that ground beef I had in the freezer?…oh hang on…did we eat that already? How am I out of bananas again ?…didn’t I just buy them?
And here’s my secret admission: sometimes I’ve found myself thinking “there’s got to be more to life than this!” I used to fill my days with intelligent conversation and reading and piano and ministry and relationships…And now my days are filled with diapers and dishes and dirty clothes. Of course I feel guilty whenever that thought enters my mind because I know how blessed I am. I realize I’m undertaking an irreplaceable, precious task in raising two beautiful girls. But sometimes I really have to force myself to remember WHAT the whole point of all this is.
I have to remind myself that every boo-boo kissed teaches them how to empathize, every act of discipline demonstrates consequences to behavior, every picked-up mess instructs them how to care for material things, every apology reminds them how to forgive. Moms are walking examples of love and mercy and patience and forgiveness and responsibility. And even though I sometimes wish for a change in the monotony, if given a choice…I wouldn’t change a thing.