Dear Exhausted Mom,
I know how you feel.
You are tired.
Tired of the monotony.
Tired of your own version of Groundhog Day.
Tired of the seat belts and the sippy cups and the diapers and the marker on the wall and the tantrums and the Caillou and the food on the floor, and now that we are moving into winter, the hats and the boots and the mittens and the gloves.
Oh. The fucking gloves.
You are tired of having your patience tested.
Of having to think about every single word that comes out of your mouth.
You are tired of the lack of privacy.
Or total absence of it.
And while you love your kids to the moon and back, you feel guilty.
Because although you wouldn’t trade your children or motherhood for anything in the world, sometimes there are days where you would just like to walk out the front door and keep going.
Find someplace peaceful.
But someplace where you can have some interaction with a human being who relates to you rather than one who depends on you.
Because you are lonely, too.
You were prepared for the exhaustion, but you never really anticipated the loneliness.
And there are times where you don’t know if you are going to make it.
Times you want to throw in the towel.
Times you feel like a failure for yelling or crying or just wanting to give up and escape.
You’re not. You’re human.
Being a mom is fucking hard, but you will make it.
One day that moment you’ve been fantasizing about will arrive. Without warning.
I had one of those moments yesterday.
I have been rocking Number 7 to sleep at nap time since she was born.
She doesn’t really need me to do it, but she likes it.
And so do I.
In fact, I probably like it more than her.
Because she’s the baby.
She’s the last one I will rock in that chair.
And yesterday at nap time as I sat down and waited for her to climb onto my lap, she looked at me and said,
“I don’t want to rock in the rocking chair.”
And she climbed into her bed.
Just like that.
No warning. She was done.
And all those fantasies I’d had in my head of uninterrupted showers and clean kitchen floors and a house that stayed neat for more than twelve minutes, well, they weren’t so appealing anymore.
All of a sudden the only things I could think about were blankies and feet pajamas and sucking thumbs and strollers and coveralls that look like little teddy bears.
There is an end.
You will find yourself on the other side.
And it may be sooner than you think.
So whatever stage you are in right now, choose a moment.
A moment that you love.
Whether it’s rocking in the chair, or breastfeeding, or reading a story, or watching a movie.
Whether it’s sledding or snuggling or whatever it is, be mindful of that moment.
Because they are finite.
I know it seems like those unbearable moments of motherhood have no end in sight.
But they do.
Unfortunately, when they disappear, some of the bearable moments that you really enjoy go right along with them.