Moms don’t get a break.
It’s nap time and my baby should be sleeping. I walk into her room to calm her and give her the pacis that she has thrown across the room and, of course. She’s pooped.
Moms don’t get a break.
It is a beautiful day and we’re playing at the park. I breathe in the fresh air and enjoy the scenery, welcoming the sunshine. But my son has fallen off something and scraped his knee, so I’m off to kiss boo boos.
Moms don’t get a break.
My one year old is cutting four teeth at the same time. We’re out of gripe water, essential oils, and teething toys… not that they worked anyway.
Moms don’t get a break.
After a long day the babies are fed, bathed, and safely tucked into bed. I enter the living room with my glass of wine and I see toys—all of them—still scattered throughout the house. I have options though: leave them where they lie (but my OCD will simply not allow that… next!), get daddy to do it, or pick them up myself. I sigh as I set down the glass of wine.
Moms don’t get a break.
It’s 8am and the babies are ready to start the day. I roll over to a 100 degree headache and body aches. The cold that I tried so hard to avoid with my Lysol wipes and constant thieves essential oils has finally caught up to me.
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Moms don’t get a break.
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It is day five for this unwashed hair. I try for a quick shower, military style, but after only a moment of peace I see tiny toes interrupting my solitude. I forgot to lock the door.
Moms don’t get a break.
Why does the majority of every meal end up under the table?
Moms don’t get a break.
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I am bleeding and just found out we are having a miscarriage-our third one in three months. I still have two toddlers who need me to be mentally and physically present.
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Moms don’t get a break.
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It’s date night in. The roast is perfect, the movie has started—I hear a stir and a scream. The oldest has had a nightmare and insists on joining in on mommy-daddy time.
Parents don’t get a break.
I didn’t know this was what I was signing up for. No matter how many parenting books you read, google searches you make, or people you seek advice from, nothing can ever fully prepare you for the journey, responsibility, and commitment of being a parent. It’s very much a day to day learning process. I am tired, I am dirty, I am never untouched.
Yet, this is the most out-of-body, exhilarating, amazing life to live. I choose this daily. I commit to this responsibility daily. This is parenting. It is a daily choice to evolve, improve, and sacrifice of one’s own desires for what is best for my off spring.
I could choose to give up, I could choose to let this rip away the woman I once was. Instead I grow as a person, my heart has grown ten-fold. I would not be who I am without my babies.
I do not get a break, but that is my choice. A choice that I am happily committed to making for the rest of my life.
Matriarchs and Maids 