ode to the mamas

I went to bed last night at 2AM. Or rather, this morning because technically I went to bed today, not yesterday.  I woke up at 6am.  I ran two successful businesses today.  Countless hours of work in the office and at home and in the gym coaching.  I also worked out myself, found time to write this blog, do laundry, sweep the floors, wash dishes.  And, I raised two children.  And in comparison to that, everything else was a walk in the park.

If my kids were adults, they would not be good people.  In fact, if I met them on the streets, I would grab my purse casually and zig zag my way away from them.  They lie.  They cheat.  And they steal.  Daily. “I didn’t spill that, I wasn’t in the fridge.”  But, you were.  Because I saw you and I am standing here while there is juice running down the counter and all over your shirt which coincidentally you changed 14 times today and somehow you can look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t do it and for .3 seconds I almost believe you….  Who touched my wallet?  “I don’t know”  Oh, there you go lying again because all of my credit cards are laying here on the floor and somehow all the cash is missing but you just told me you “found” $20 and its yours because finders keepers.  It’s funny when we play games and somehow I lose to a 5 year old.  I mean sure checkers isn’t my strong game but I am pretty sure both sides are supposed to start with an equal number of checkers but its cool that you have 12 and I have 3.  I know you “lost them” so we have to play like this even though I can see my black checkers everytime you move your legs because you are sitting on them.

Breakfast time is the most stressful time of my day.  Not those 100 emails I have to answer about environmental protocols and annual compliance requirements.  Not the 16 facebook messages and text messages I got from 16 members asking 16 different things that all need attending to today.  Breakfast time.  Because one kid wants a Cinnabon and the other wants a steak and all we have are pancakes and cheerios.  Because if you put a bag of Doritos in front of my 7 year old, he will house them in 18 seconds as if he has been locked in a closet for 3 months and hasn’t seen solid food.  But, when you put a single piece of toast in front of him, he suddenly has a toothache, a sore throat and his arms don’t work so it takes him 49 minutes to take 2 bites and tell me that he is full.

Breakfast time is probably only paralleled by the amount of time it takes to get dressed.   Because after we try on every single shirt in his closet, my five year old wants to wear the same one he wore yesterday and the day before because its camo.  Its ok, he has 8 other camo shirts but none of them apparently compare to this one which is currently balled up under his sweaty soccer socks from yesterday and smells like a high school gym locker room.  But after another 20 minutes I convince him to wear something else and then after asking him to put the clothes I just handed him on 12 times, I finally dress him myself while he shoots me with his nerf gun because obviously he is a sniper and that’s why he needs his camo.

But, really as much as my kids make me crazy, I love them.  Even when they fight over the tv remote because they cannot agree on what to watch so I let one go in the bedroom and watch and the other watch in the living room and they end up watching the same exact thing from two different rooms and both cry when they want to lay with me but I can’t be in two places at once.

These kids are my life.  And no fight with each other or argument over toothpaste or the entire tube squeezed out on the floor and walked through could ever change that.  When I pick them up from school and they hug and kiss me and tell me they missed me, it is the best feeling in the world.  When they crawl on my lap and just want a hug, I melt.  Parenting is by far my hardest job.  But, I keep them alive and happy everyday and though I am making mistakes along the way, I am doing my best.  Motherhood should come with a second set of hands and maybe an instruction manual.  But it doesn’t and so we do as much as we can and eventually, we realize we can’t do it all, and they love us anyway (especially when we have cash in our wallets).

So Happy Mother’s Day moms. I know its a few days late and I meant to post this on Mother’s Day but I didn’t have the time probably because my kids were fighting somewhere over a three day old cupcake nobody wanted went I first bought it or because they stole my computer and pawned it for Roblox money or maybe for a free lemonade to spill on the floor.  Happy Mother’s Day, everyday, because you deserve it for all your hard work.  This sh*t is no joke!

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