Okay, I know there are other parents out there who’ve been caught with their pants down…in the bathroom. Seriously, especially for us moms, I never knew what a luxury it was just to pee (and perform other bodily functions) alone. So today, I developed a plan. It’s called the “Lack of Privacy Payback Plan” to be exact. So here goes:
The number of minutes my preschooler stands in the doorway and talks to me while I’m using the restroom are equivalent to the number of minutes I’ll stand in her doorway and talk to her…while she’s trying to make out with her boyfriend someday.
But I’m not going to stop there. This next step is the pièce de résistance. I’ll not only stand in her doorway and talk to her, I’ll repeat word for word the questions, statements …
Motherhood is exhausting, and trying, and stressful…but completely beautiful.
While my children are whining,
The devil is dining,
On the sin of my impatience.
He licks his lips for just a taste
Of anger and frustration.
“Throw that book, raise your voice,
Yell a little louder! Turn your wrath
Into a rage, make me so much prouder!”
Lord, help me to rise above
These petty sins and trials.
Give me strength to bless my children
With words that come from smiles.
Today has been one of those Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Days. Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but only slightly. No, we haven’t experienced a major catastrophe, meltdown, illness or otherwise majorly stressful event. Rather, it’s been one of those days that wear you down, drop by drop, like a slow leak in your roof that’s hard to pinpoint. It’s hard to fix, because you can’t nail down the source.
After failing to get the mower started, and giving up on getting anything done outside (this God-forsaken Kansas wind!!!), I let the girls stay on our covered front porch to play while I went in and did dishes. I turned the AC off, and opened the storm door glass, so I could still hear them through the screen.
“Oh, hi sweetie. How was your day today? I …
I might just have a couple champion bowlers on my hands.
Until recently, I avoided taking my girls out in public as much as possible. Too stressful. Too scary. Too many factors outside my control. What if they ran off in a parking lot and got run over? Or kidnapped? What if they wander off in a crowded store? What if we get in a car accident? Or, most likely, what if they have a monster meltdown on the floor of a…wait for it…nasty public bathroom? Ew. I forgot about those. Babies R’ Us, a place that’s supposed to cater to the family types quite possibly has the worst restrooms, and don’t get me started on the “nursing” rooms, that seem perpetually covered in trash and poopy diapers.
Ok, so enough about the dangers of leaving …
Her touch makes everything better.
She never taught me how to style my hair, or do my makeup, or dress in the most flattering fashions. She didn’t teach me how to blow a bubble, ride my bike, or snap my fingers. I don’t recall her ever making cupcakes for my class, or putting on an elaborate birthday party. A box cake mix and a can of frosting was about as fancy as it got. We never went for mother/daughter manis or pedis, or spa days, or other such extravagances.
But in the end, as I reflect on my own journey of motherhood I realize that all the things my mother never did for me, are things that never really mattered at all.
She always taught me how to stand up for what I believe in, be loyal …
The magic of this moment couldn’t possibly be captured by camera. Still, I’m glad to have it.
I can still remember the way she looked on my chest. Wet from the womb, her eyes wild and her chin, strong and angular, jutted out at me as if in an immediate assertion of dominance. She’s always been strong. Strong minded, strong willed. So strong, in fact, that she left a large, deep bruise on my left breast after a faulty first latch, such a painful encounter was our first as mother and daughter. “Good luck feeding that barracuda,” the nurse joked. How right she was. I gave up nursing after three weeks. Cracked nipples and scorching thrush meant that each feeding session was excruciating. I’ve always felt guilty about giving up on her, and perhaps I …