The Paradox of Motherhood
I spend most of my waking hours swept up in a whirlwind of chaos, joy, and constant movement. I used to wake up to an alarm clock every day. I would leisurely hit the snooze button ten times before slowly getting out of bed. These days I’m woken up each morning with a child a quarter inch from my face
saying yelling “MOMMY! WAKE UP!!!”
Is it even morning? I don’t see any sun. What, 5 am? Go back to bed!
As much as I gently push them aside and try to snooze this blaring alarm, the
yelling screaming continues. Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!
Okay, I’m up. So starts my morning.
Pour milk, make breakfast, feed kids, wipe kids clean, do dishes with a toddler on hip, wipe down the table (chairs, walls, dog, every crevice of high-chair, you name it). Get everyone dressed, brush hair, brush teeth, make beds.
What, you guys are hungry again? No way, not now.
Play games on the floor, make silly faces, listen to baby giggles, tie shoes, attempt to do some work, wipe bottoms, play dress-up, engage in tickle fights.
Wait, when was the last time I took a shower? No time. Throw on a hat.
Take trip to playground, kiss boo-boos, wipe tears, watch them play, smile ear-to-ear, hand out snacks, come home, change diapers, sing silly songs, tackle the growing mountain of laundry, clean up potty messes (isn’t potty training fun?), make lunch, clean kitchen, wipe faces, wipes hands, read books, laugh some more, give more kisses, say I love you, take a deep breath because, phew, we made it to nap time.
Please Lord, let these children sleep. I will do anything. I just need an hour.
These are the days of raising children. Busy, tiring, and yet filled with so many giggles, smiles, and joy I could never have imagined. Motherhood is exhausting, fulfilling, challenging, and amazing.
This is the paradox of motherhood.
It is hard, yet easy.
It is slow, yet fast.
It is aggravating, yet fulfilling.
It is tiring, yet life-giving.
It causes me to cry and smile.
These are the days I look forward to and dread.
In the moment, I am often praying the time would pass faster. If I can just make it to dinner time…to bath time…to bed time. But at the same time, I am praying time will slow down. How is my youngest child 18 months already? Wasn’t he just a newborn sleeping in my arms? How did my oldest get so tall? And my little girl, when did all her deep thinking begin?
Motherhood is funny that way. A paradox of feelings and emotions. Wanting to savor it all and yet trying to make it through the days. It is a time in my life where I scream I can’t take it anymore and in the same breath whisper I don’t ever want it to end.
Is it the same for you?