Mother's Day

Sometimes, I am not the best mother. Sometimes I yell at my kids. Sometimes I stomp my feet. Sometimes I behave like I am six years old. I do not always have as much patience as I wish I did. I've thrown things, slammed doors, said things I never thought I would, taken things away, been conditional, made ultimatums, bribed, cajoled, whined and thrown tantrums of my own.

But I love them more than life itself. I would do anything--anything--for them. I have grown them, birthed them, nursed them, held their hair back while they threw up, sat on the bathroom floor with them while they had diarrhea, bathed them, held them, changed sheets and clothes and diapers and emptied potties and read 1.5 million books, carried them on various parts of my body through cities, up mountains, under water, on planes, subway trains and buses, held them on my lap while sliding down slides, kissed countless injuries away, slept beside at least one of them every night. I've showed them how to sew and knit and make friendship bracelets, how to make a musical instruments out of a piece of grass, how to cook, do math, play the piano. I've explained how clouds form, the water cycle, how mummies were made, how our solar system works, where the moon came from, how birds learn to fly, how things grow and change and where roly-polies like to hide. In many ways, I have truly and deliberately sacrificed my own happiness for theirs. Every choice I make is with them in mind. But I am always the first to be critical of my mistakes. I make the very mother-like leap of imagination from my refusing to make grilled cheese sandwiches even ONE MORE TIME, to my daughters ending up as 15-year-old meth addicts.

My children, like most children, very willingly take 100% of what I give them, and still demand more. Some days I am so tired, I can't think straight. Sometimes I envy my friends who work full-time in jobs other than the childcare of their own children. But this is where I am right now in my life. I am the mother of two small children. One day, that will not be the case. One day, I will look at mothers like me in the check out line at the grocery store, and I will appreciate how hard they are working.