...to be a mother.
I think about that all the time.
When I am exhausted from picking up the house for the umpteenth time that day, which so happens to be every day.
When I've repeated myself a bazillion times and the task still hasn't been completed.
When I get so angry that I start yelling at everyone, including the cats and the dog.
When, instead of getting up and making the kids do what I've told them to do twelve times, I just sit there and decide it will just be easier to do it myself.
When my kids talk back to me in my own tone of voice with words they've heard out of my mouth.
When I feel like I'm alone in the fight to raise them into functioning adults.
When I realize that it's thirty minutes until bedtime and I *still* haven't served dinner.
When I see the scads of laundry all over the house.
Then I think about:
When we let the house be messy and enjoyed a movie together.
When they've repeated themselves a bazillion times so they could learn something.
When they get so excited they can't help but yell about it.
When I do it myself and they come to help, unasked.
When my kids talk back to me in my own tone of voice with words they've heard out of my mouth.
When I see them doing what I've instilled in them with people outside of our home.
When they just want macaroni and cheese and hot dogs for dinner and we ate dessert first.
When I fold their clothes and notice how the clothes keep getting bigger and I shed a tear for how short my time with them is.
I have finally come to realize that I'm not cut out to be a mother, I'm cut out to be a human being with feelings. Feelings are messy. Reactions aren't always right. My kids won't be perfect.
We're all going to screw up. Sometimes as a group, sometimes individually. Mistakes will happen, but we can always make amends. Always.
I have a love hate relationship with parenting and I've figured out, that's okay.
When you're juggling fifteen balls at once you're sure to drop a couple from time to time, make sure they bounce!
~Kim
