When I started this blog I promised this wouldn’t be a blog just about motherhood (see about me section). Low and behold, all of my posts thus far have been about just that. Lets face it, there isn’t much else going on right now, AT ALL!
Although I have not blogged in a number of days, I have been thinking about what to blog next. There have been a number of interesting things here and there to comment on, but finding the time to get on here and turning those thoughts into words has been a challenge. I keep telling myself that I will blog once I “clean the house” or “feed Molly” or “run an errand” or “feed Molly” or “spend nurturing one-on-one time with one of my older and neglected children” or “feed Molly”. The only thing I seem to get done lately is feeding Molly which makes me feel like I have been reduced to a large, walking, and talking boob. Cue the feel-sorry-for-me violin.
The decision to be a stay-at-home mother involves a lot of self-sacrifice. The image that comes to mind is a well dressed, funny, creative, and intelligent woman stepping into a large pot of boiling water. The first child is born and a little bit of goo seeps from her mind into the water, second child is born and a little more seeps out, the steam from the pot wrinkling her skin, and as the third comes along her body slowly melts away to an unrecognizable mass of mushiness.
As I have woken up each morning for the past few weeks, wearily going downstairs, stumbling over toys with a baby on my hip, and shoving dirty dishes aside to fill up the coffee pot, I stare out of the kitchen window at the outside world which I no longer feel like I am a part of. I think about whether or not I made the right decision with my life. It feels very disorganized and rushed, and I can barely think anymore, my children being the only topic I can carry on a decent conversation about. No longer am I able to watch grown up television, but can explain what the last four thousand episodes of Yo, Gabba, Gabba! were about. On the bright side, at least I won’t forget how to point out opposites or a triangle amongst a group of squares.
As I stand there daydreaming, the coffee pot starting to overflow from the running water, Molly squeals and jerks her legs. I turn off the water and look at her face to which she responds with a giant smile, her dimples creasing on the sides of her cheeks. Annie shuffles around the corner, her messy hair arranged wildly from a night of tossing and turning, and she mutters a “Good morning, Mommy” in a soft tired voice. As Jane and Jackson join the rest of us there is a feeling of completeness that surrounds our little family. It’s a feeling of warmth, comfort, and love.
In that moment, the woman in the pot reaches her arm out of the pile of mush with her heart tightly clutched in her fist. In that pot a lot of things she had once resembled may have simmered down to a small ounce of what she has now become, but all the while the one thing she possessed amongst it all that had any real value seems to have gotten that much stronger. In her heart she possesses the ingredients that has produced the warmth of a mother and the love of a family. To have the opportunity to spend her life nurturing that love may mean sacrificing a lot of things, but every dimple, every soft “Good Morning”, and every moment surrounded by her family makes it seem like a very wonderful and fulfilling trade-off.
I love the metaphor, and the last paragraph. Very warm and very real.
I love “soft Good Morning.”
A good read!