Tonight didn't go exactly how I thought it would. After a family BBQ for memorial day at my in-laws home we miraculously pulled off an 8:30 bedtime for the kids. A half hour late on bedtime on a holiday is a win in my book. Usually after the kids go to bed my husband and I bury ourselves in some good ol' Netflix and have some much needed, kid-less, alone time. Tonight however, we looked at each other, and were like, "Nah. Let's go to bed instead." We were still a little 'binge watching hungover' from the night before when we stayed up past two in the morning to finish the final episodes of our current show. (side note: isn't finding a new show to binge the friggin' worst?!) Anyway, so the hubs is in bed by nine. Kids in bed? Check. Hubby in bed? Check. Nine? Me? No way! If this isn't the perfect opportunity to read my book than I don't know what is. Quiet, peaceful, alone-time reading... ahhhh.... bliss.
About twenty minutes into my reading sesh I hear the kid's bedroom door crrrrrreak open. Oh crap. The three year old is going to refuse to go to bed.... again! Then I hear the sniffles. Nope. Not my feisty three year old but instead, my sensitive tender six year old trying to hold back tears. He rounds the corner and sees me in the living room and immediately starts crying. I pull him into a hug and it takes a moment or two for him to choke out the words that he is scared and can't sleep. I grab his B and tell him to take my phone and watch funny videos on Youtube (the kid is a AFV junkie!) to try and get his mind off of the scary stuff while I read my book. We cuddle on the couch that way for a while longer. When I tell him its time to try bed again he starts to blink tears but is trying really hard to be brave. We go into his room and I tuck him into bed and then the crying starts. Except its not from him it is now from the three year old who was just so rudely woken up. Great. Bedtime for mom is getting farther away and yeah, remember how I am already exhausted AND took my night time pills already? Cue eye roll here.
So I sit on the floor next to her bed and stroke her hair but she is MAD and seriously not having it. So I grab my phone and turn on kids lullabies on Spotify. She calms down enough to listen to the music and looking over at my other kid, I can tell he is still struggling with scary thoughts. All I can do at this point is plop my butt into the rocking chair and listen to lullabies while hopefully my children calm down their nerves and fall asleep.
I love my rocking chair. It's big and cozy and absolutely wonderful. I have spent a lot of late nights in that chair. I do some of my deepest thinking in that chair.
Tonight, rocking back and forth, listening to the most beautiful piano music, watching my kids eyelids grow heavy, I pondered on motherhood. Have you ever felt guilty for not loving motherhood like you think you should? I constantly feel that. Being a mom to these kids is my divine purpose, I truly believe that. So how come I don't enjoy it more? How come, instead of delighting in being a mom, I so often feel drudgery instead? I love my kids to the moon and back again, you should know that. However, that doesn't mean that motherhood has been easy on me. I look at other women and they just thrive as moms. They are in their element. They are the Pinterest moms. The mommy bloggers and vloggers. The ones who go above and beyond on every single holiday including national pie day. The moms who can pop out six kids, no problem-o. (Like, they actually like being pregnant) I had a friend who didn't go on a date with her husband for the entire first year of her son's life because she couldn't bear to be away from him. I went on an anniversary weekend getaway when my son was only two months old. Some moms are SO happy with this homeschooling/quarantine crap because they get more time with their kids. I literally booked myself an airbnb for a long weekend just so I could be alone. No joke. I have often wondered if there is something fundamentally wrong with me and my feelings about mom life.
So these are the thoughts I am thinking as I am rocking and longing to be in my bed instead. And then..... something happened. The song "You'll be in my heart" from Tarzan started to play. It was just piano music but the lyrics ran through my head. I looked over at the sleeping forms of my children, and was immediately filled with so much peace. There was so much peace in the room it was almost tangible. I wish there was a better word than peace. Peace doesn't seem to do the feeling justice, but its the best word I have. There is something magical that happens when you watch your child drift off to sleep. I can't explain it, but it's the best feeling in the world. The feeling of pride in what you have created. The feeling of a love you never knew existed. The feeling of home and family and eternity all wrapped up in one. They are so precious, these little heaven sent angels of mine.
So maybe I don't get overjoyed with the day to day drudgeries of motherhood. But I DO delight in the bond that I feel for them. That everlasting bond that can't be broken. That is a beautiful thing. I may not be the best mom in the world, but I am a pretty damn good one. (but maybe not tomorrow morning because it's already 1:00 am haha.)
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