Our purpose as a mother.

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In bed I see laying in front of me my oldest baby’s London taxi cab car, which he probably left in here earlier this morning when we were trying to get dad out of bed. It happens all the time and I’m constantly picking up miniature automobiles as part of my daily routine. In fact, he fell asleep with his newest truck just a short bit ago and it has me thinking about what I do as his mother every day. Earlier I vented to my husband about how as a person I feel as though I don’t do that much with my life besides change diapers and make sure that by the end of the night our children are happy while still being in one piece. I actually do a damn good job at that. But besides that, my life has taken a pretty boring and slightly unfulfilling turn when I think about it. As a mother I feel extremely guilty about this.

I LOVE being able to raise my kids at home. I rarely get to miss out on all the awesome moments like I just had tonight. I was in my bedroom about to blog and my oldest woke up crying so of course I rush in to see what’s wrong. Nothing, he wants to cuddle and since he’s not being a butt about it I gladly oblige him. Squeezing together on his twin bed, we snuggle up and listen to the outside world that is still awake. Playing with his truck on my leg he turns to look at me and gets closer. I smile and take the opportunity to kiss his cheek which he in turn does back.. however he kisses my glasses but I’ll take that. We went back and forth like that for a little while, smiling and giggling. That was the first time he’s really done that with me. I laid there afterwards while he was changing his sleeping position again and thought to myself how lucky I am that I get to experience these moments of pure bliss. I like to think that he was happy too knowing that I am always there no matter what to comfort him when he needs it.

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I find myself a lot of times wishing that I was back at work or out and about away from the kids doing a hobby, doing something to help myself feel like more a person rather than a house elf. (Yes, I just used a Hogwarts reference.) I want to have my own personal life to worry about rather than others like my husband because all that I think that I do during the day is housework and that’s not really something to write home about. But then, I sometimes get the reality check that maybe , just maybe I’m the glue that keeps this whole house running. I make breakfast, lunch and dinner. I make sure everyone is up at the time they need to be to get to where they need to go. I take care of anyone that is sick and work through my own sickness because there isn’t time for that. I make sure the laundry is done and everyone has clean sheets on their beds. I give bathes, I brush teeth and I make sure that we have every Toy Story movie known to man. As I’m typing, I’m realizing now why my back has a pain that never goes away and why I need several cups of coffee every morning to get started because as soon as my kids wake up they are like the energizer bunny. It’s only 10:30pm and I keep thinking I should go to sleep already because I’ll wake up at least two more times before they officially want to be up for the morning. The constant struggle of staying up later to get some “me” time but needing to go to bed early to catch all the sleep you can before they wake up.

I’m lucky. I’m sleepy and most of the time grumpy.. but lucky. When the time comes for me to go back to work I already know that I’ll cry because I’ll miss my kids. I’ll realize that I will no longer be there for every moment that they need me and when they cry for me I won’t be the one to calm them down. But in a way, for them, that’s part of the growing up process. Learning to handle situations on their own without their safety net.

I guess that day can take its time getting here.

Goodnight.

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