Some days, I feel like I’m living in an experiment to see how much it takes for my sanity to crack. Living life as a stay at home mother is bilateral. On one hand, I know I am blessed to raise our two daughters without having to pay for daycare. Who am I to complain while I get to stay home and raise our babies as my husband works? On the other hand, I wonder if the emotional reward is worth being so isolated, devoid of much adult interaction. Who and what am I to my kiddos? Sometimes I feel like a maid, a lunch lady, a chauffeur, and the staunch opponent to my daughters’ frivolous wants and antics.
Some days, I don’t get to sit down until after my husband comes home, and we’ve put our girls to bed. I can remember one of my best friends from CT, a mother of 3 little boys, told me that her favorite time of day is sitting on the couch with her husband watching tv after their boys are in bed. I totally get that now. There are some days when I feel like I’m trying to mitigate two tornados, one in front of me, and one that undoes everything behind me. All I want is for one thing to remain as I left it. Mowing the lawn is therapeutic, since the lines in the grass can remain for at least a week. Sadly, now that the grass is dead, I don’t have that outlet anymore. Getting dressed in real clothes, like not yoga pants or a hoodie, and putting on blush is a win these days.
My oldest girl, 3, has taken to calling me by my first name. She’s so observant, that she hears others call me Miccah and not Momma, and so she mimics. When she calls me by my first name, it makes me feel like she isn’t even my child, which makes my patience level with her plummet. On some particularly challenging days, I look at my tiresome 3 year old with no joy in my expression. I can feel the pull in the muscles of my cheeks to force a smile. I have gone to bed on some rare occasions, emotionally and physically exhausted, topped off with the emotional burden of realizing I didn’t give my girl a single hug all day. My 19-month-old is still mostly compliant and docile. Smiling at her and giving her snuggles is easy because she hasn’t yet challenged my authority. Am I already playing favorites?
Strangers who have older children that see me with my girls knowingly smile and tell me how I shouldn’t blink, because this age grows up so quickly. Am I terrible in being okay with that for the most part? I’m actually looking forward to having non-circular conversations with them, and not having to explain why they can’t lick the driveway or put play dough in their noses and not having to wipe their poopy bottoms. As I look back at pictures through the last year, I do see how much my girls have grown. How cute they are and how their eyes sparkle with joy and anticipation of their lives ahead of them. I hope and pray they won’t remember the days their mother was a grump, only how much fun it was growing up in this family. Most of all, I pray that they would be women of strength, of strong moral character, passionate about their purpose on earth and about the One who created them, be full of love, joy, and peace in their hearts and minds, and that they would always look for ways to show kindness to others.