Since both Becca of Time Well Spent and the little Snoodle over at Snoodlings expressed curiosity at what I did in fact receive for Mother's Day, I thought (contrary to the thoughts I had yesterday on the topic) I might as well give in to the peer pressure.
At 7AM, the alarm went off, dragging me from my sleep. I realize that many out there might think that is sleeping in, but I beg to differ. First off, I'm a bit of a night owl and secondly I have another alarm, one that came with no doze button whatsoever, that wakes me up at 2, 4 and 6. Anyway, back to the 7AM alarm. It was calling me to start my 7AM meds to dripping into my arm. After sorting out the tubing, I pulled my little Mudpuppy close to me and he nuzzled into my embrace without waking.
This, predawn nursings and all, is way better than sleeping in.
Then it was time for the whole morning rush as I readied five young children for church, on my own and with no lifting of children. Doctor's orders on that one. And the drive to church. Thirty minutes of "discussions" with my son about how to behave in Sunday School. He was tired of them and sat staring out the window, mumbling answers to my scenarios. Frankly, we share in that sentiment, but until he is no longer exasperating his teachers on a regular basis, they will be a part of our llittle routine.
Then pick up. Mouse comes out hiding something behind her back. I catch a glimpse of yellow construction paper. A card she didn't have time to finish in class and somehow won't find the time to finish at home, either. From Bear, a flower. And words from his teacher.
Until I turned around just in time to see him racing around the corner with little Mudpuppy in the stroller. Leaving Mouse to look after L.E. Fant and unsure where Bug had gone, I went after him. Oh so slowly. Being off the crutches is great, but it hasn't made me any faster.
If only I hadn't been so enthusiastic about finally being off crutches that I decided to take everyone to church on my own.
If only Bug hadn't needed to go to the restroom.
If only the other mothers who had recently dodged the stroller-turned-race-car didn't smile and wish me a happy Mother's Day in such an empathic way.
Finally all buckled into the car, I wanted to cry. Not so much because both Bear and Bug had darted off. Not so much because there was a certain feeling of helplessness at knowing this likely would not have happened if it weren't for my hip.
No. It's more that Bear had done so well in his class. I wanted to praise him. Let him know the nice things the teacher had said about him. Maybe even let him call daddy to let him know what a good day he had in Sunday School. Instead, I heard myself saying,
Boy was that a mistake.
Have you any idea of the volume...the sustained volume...two stir crazy children can attain in a small house? Wind sprints up and down the hall. Literally bouncing off the walls. And screaming. Screaming. Oh, the screaming.
And that seemed to set the volume for the house. Mouse came in to ask me a question and I had to remind her we were in the same room. Less than a foot from each other, in fact. Yet my ears were ringing.
They had more energy than the 900 square feet of this house could contain and it was coming out of their lungs.
And I was tired. Tired from lack of sleep. Tired from the recovery process of this hip infection. Tired of the noise.
And hey, what's this? What a thoughtful Mother's Day present!
No, no, no. Not for the children. The thought never crossed my mind. Taking it myself only crossed my mind once because it worked so well in the hospital and I have a full bottle and I've not taken any since I got home. Not even one.
But we did eventually make it through to bedtime. My least favorite days. The ones where I find myself monitoring the clock, counting down the hours...then the minutes...to bedtime. To quiet time.
But we made it. And I read to them. And I told them each how much I love them. And I prayed for them. And little Bug looked up, her wild curls flitting every which way as her eyes sparkled in the dim light from the laundry room.
Motherhood is not an easy task. It can be tedious, frustrating, seemingly thankless and even overwhelming. I know I am nowhere near doing everything "right," but all too often I'm not even sure what the "right" thing to do is. But then there are these moments, peppered through every single day.
Moments that can be easily missed. Moments that are like honey to the soul.
And suddenly it was a wonderful Mother's Day.
At 7AM, the alarm went off, dragging me from my sleep. I realize that many out there might think that is sleeping in, but I beg to differ. First off, I'm a bit of a night owl and secondly I have another alarm, one that came with no doze button whatsoever, that wakes me up at 2, 4 and 6. Anyway, back to the 7AM alarm. It was calling me to start my 7AM meds to dripping into my arm. After sorting out the tubing, I pulled my little Mudpuppy close to me and he nuzzled into my embrace without waking.This, predawn nursings and all, is way better than sleeping in.
Then it was time for the whole morning rush as I readied five young children for church, on my own and with no lifting of children. Doctor's orders on that one. And the drive to church. Thirty minutes of "discussions" with my son about how to behave in Sunday School. He was tired of them and sat staring out the window, mumbling answers to my scenarios. Frankly, we share in that sentiment, but until he is no longer exasperating his teachers on a regular basis, they will be a part of our llittle routine.
Then pick up. Mouse comes out hiding something behind her back. I catch a glimpse of yellow construction paper. A card she didn't have time to finish in class and somehow won't find the time to finish at home, either. From Bear, a flower. And words from his teacher.
He did great today. No problems at all.The words were like music to my ears.
Until I turned around just in time to see him racing around the corner with little Mudpuppy in the stroller. Leaving Mouse to look after L.E. Fant and unsure where Bug had gone, I went after him. Oh so slowly. Being off the crutches is great, but it hasn't made me any faster.
If only I hadn't been so enthusiastic about finally being off crutches that I decided to take everyone to church on my own.
If only Bug hadn't needed to go to the restroom.
If only the other mothers who had recently dodged the stroller-turned-race-car didn't smile and wish me a happy Mother's Day in such an empathic way.
Finally all buckled into the car, I wanted to cry. Not so much because both Bear and Bug had darted off. Not so much because there was a certain feeling of helplessness at knowing this likely would not have happened if it weren't for my hip.
No. It's more that Bear had done so well in his class. I wanted to praise him. Let him know the nice things the teacher had said about him. Maybe even let him call daddy to let him know what a good day he had in Sunday School. Instead, I heard myself saying,
You will not be allowed to play outside today. Not only did you run away from me, but you left the building. That isn't safe.He and Bug both grounded.
Boy was that a mistake.
Have you any idea of the volume...the sustained volume...two stir crazy children can attain in a small house? Wind sprints up and down the hall. Literally bouncing off the walls. And screaming. Screaming. Oh, the screaming.
And that seemed to set the volume for the house. Mouse came in to ask me a question and I had to remind her we were in the same room. Less than a foot from each other, in fact. Yet my ears were ringing.
They had more energy than the 900 square feet of this house could contain and it was coming out of their lungs.
And I was tired. Tired from lack of sleep. Tired from the recovery process of this hip infection. Tired of the noise.
And hey, what's this? What a thoughtful Mother's Day present!
No, no, no. Not for the children. The thought never crossed my mind. Taking it myself only crossed my mind once because it worked so well in the hospital and I have a full bottle and I've not taken any since I got home. Not even one.
But we did eventually make it through to bedtime. My least favorite days. The ones where I find myself monitoring the clock, counting down the hours...then the minutes...to bedtime. To quiet time.
But we made it. And I read to them. And I told them each how much I love them. And I prayed for them. And little Bug looked up, her wild curls flitting every which way as her eyes sparkled in the dim light from the laundry room.
Happy Mother's Day, Mommy!Then she nestled down in her blankets with one of those happy warm glowing kind of smiles that expresses nothing but love and security and contentment.
Motherhood is not an easy task. It can be tedious, frustrating, seemingly thankless and even overwhelming. I know I am nowhere near doing everything "right," but all too often I'm not even sure what the "right" thing to do is. But then there are these moments, peppered through every single day.
Moments that can be easily missed. Moments that are like honey to the soul.
And suddenly it was a wonderful Mother's Day.
