I Wanted This

Today wasn't one of those days, but I've had plenty of them recently that seem to start and end on a loud note.  The days when I count down the nanoseconds until bedtime, only to realize once the kids are asleep that I have no energy to spend on myself.

And then I try to remember (I try) that not so long ago I would lay in bed at night fantasizing about the day when I would be that worn out mother, energy sucked dry by chasing giggling children down aisles in a shoe store or emotionally tired from battling through an epic battle of the wills thanks to the Terrible Threes.

I wanted this.  All of this.  I wanted them.

I wanted to be the one who made their owies feel better, got the best laughs, and gave the best cuddles.  I wanted to be the one they called for when they were hurt or proud.  I wanted to be the one to teach them their letters, numbers, and manners.  But I also wanted to be the one cleaning up the blood from those owies, who inspired the fiercest tantrums, and who took the hardest whacks from an angry baby hand.  I wanted to be tired and overwhelmed and stretched outside myself.

For me, the path to motherhood was intentional. I wanted this.  Even the low stuff.

I look at the picture at the top of this entry and my heart swells.  It reminds me of that dream I had not so long ago where I would imagine a shadowy child bringing such joy and happiness to my life.  It reminds me of how desperately I wanted that dream. And then I look closer and I see the unmistakable gait of my big star, low and fast and hell bent on his destination.  I recognize the child and the reality that he is sleeping upstairs right now, recharging at a much faster rate than I will be for tomorrow's next round.

He's not a shadowy dream anymore.  He and his brother are real, beautiful children, and they are mine.  And for them, I will give up sleep, food, water, DDP, reading, or anything else I might need to in order for them to be happy and healthy and loved.

Well, not the DDP actually.  That's my secret weapon.

Like I said, I try to remember this when I'm counting to 3 for the millionth time in an hour or explaining why we can't pee on [insert local, body part, household item, etc. here].  Because there are dreamers out there right now whose shoes I was in not so long ago, and I know they would give anything to be the one that had the honor of raising my kids.

Simply put: I am lucky and happy to be a mama.