I am a mother

Come take a look inside my home.

This is the living room.

See the toys strewn about on the floor?

At one point we cleaned them up together,

but you got distracted and wanted to play some more.

You told me, “Momma sit please” as you pointed to the floor.

So I sat and played with you once more.

See the couch with the sinking cushions?

That is where we have bounced and cuddled through many illnesses,

and several “I need you momma” moments.

This is the kitchen.

See the dirty dishes in the sink?

I started to wash them, but you fell and needed kisses.

So I dried my hands and traded the dishes for kisses and hugs instead.

The dishes are used to waiting after all.

See the floors I just swept already covered in crumbs?

You wanted to eat on your own today.

So I waved goodbye to my clean floors and let you exert your independence.

You even said, “Oh-oh” as you dropped yet another crumb on the floor.

And I responded, “It’s ok to make messes”,

Probably more to myself than to you.

See the ingredients for our lunch on the counter?

I ate my lunch standing up and let you help make the sandwiches because you asked,

And because I want to be able to tell you more yes’s than no’s.

So I let you spread the jelly,

and leave sticky peanut butter fingerprints on the once clean counters.

This is your bedroom.

See the books thrown open on your bed?

That’s from the countless times I read your favorite books just “one more time”.

See the rocking chair in your room?

That is where I have spent hours cuddling and singing to you,

where I have spent hours thanking God for the gift of holding you in my arms.

This is mom and dads bedroom.

See the half folded laundry dotting the floor?

I started to fold it but you insisted on “helping”.

And I let you.

This is our bathroom.

See the makeup littering the counter?

I tried getting ready quickly,

while you sat on the counter.

Which meant you found mommy’s makeup

and gave yourself a makeover in the blink of an eye.

So I wiped your face,

quickly put on my mascara,

and exited as quickly as possible

with a fleeting look in the mirror.

Just enough to pause and see myself for what I am:

I am a mother.

I am the laundry machine,

the dishwasher,

the vacuum,

the magic eraser,

the errand runner,

the fridge filler,

the meal maker.

I am a mother.

I am the multi-tasker,

the list maker,

the Dr Pepper drinker,

the infrequent nap taker,

the Target run master.

I am a mother.

I am the one who stays in workout clothes until nap time, or long after.

The one who has mastered the 3 minute shower.

The one who counts the minutes until bedtime,

but sneaks into your room to check your breathing.

I am a mother.

I am the one who loses her temper,

the one who cries over you,

the one who prays for you,

the one who loses sleep over you,

the one who willingly leaves the messes to play with you.

I am a mother.

I am beautiful.

I am capable.

I am strong.

I carried you, I nourished you, and I love you.

And I am a mother who will continue to do all of these things and more

for all the days of your life.

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