“Mom, he took my magazine and he won‘t give it back!”
“Mo-om! Ben took my piece of pizza that I was saving for lunch and ate it!”
“Mom! Will called me a ‘dipstick,’ again, even though you told him not to!”
“Mom - I need this permission slip signed!”
“Mom! David wants to know where the toilet paper is!”
Grrr…Some days - most days - it seems like my life is just one big interruption after another. I am performing a delicate balancing act every day, attempting to do way too much. And then along comes an interruption - generally in the form of one of my children - and my act collapses. My frustration mounts and I invariably turn snappy and crabby.
Is this what motherhood is supposed to be? If I were to believe the tales of my friends and the mothers portrayed in television sitcoms, I’d have to say that I am probably living a pretty normal life. But I’m not so sure it’s really the way things are supposed to be.
I remember when I had my first son. We lived in a tiny cracker-box of an apartment that didn’t require much upkeep. I stayed at home with him and the hours stretched out languorously before me each day. We rocked for hours in that little living room. I still can remember the utter peace of those days, the morning sunshine streaming through the window, no sounds but the creaking of the rocker and my baby’s contented sighs. I thought to myself, “I love being a mother!” Those days, I just couldn’t understand women who complained about their children. They obviously didn’t appreciate what they had, or else they had produced brats - unlike my own perfect progeny!
But my perspective on just how delightful motherhood was began to dim with the arrival of subsequent children. As the number of children in our home increased, along with the noise levels and demands on my time, I began to view my days as a little less rosier than when I had just one infant!
Currently, we have two teenagers, a pre-teen, and a two year old. Daily, I find myself gritting my teeth and muttering “grrr” as the interruptions interfere with my schedule and plan for how I want the day to progress. But as my older sons are beginning to do things like tower over me, drive, and have the capability of conversing somewhat intelligently, I am struck with the understanding that these days of interruptions are limited.
One day in the not-too-distant future I just may be able to get through a single day without a single interruption. Everyone assures me that then I will miss having the kind of days that I do now. It’s possible, I suppose - although I find it hard to believe! Besides, if I get too melancholy about my empty house I’m sure I’ll hear the door slam some afternoon while I’m in the midst of writing or some other equally-important project. And then I’ll hear, “Honey? Can you come help me bleed the brakes?” Grrr…
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