The morning schedule changes each day. I never know when Max will open his squeaky door or if Daniel will groggily cry out from his bed. I sit on the couch, often forgetting to open the blinds that let precious sunlight in. Some mornings I tuck my feet under me and sit beneath a fuzzy blanket waiting, letting myself become lost in the early morning hum online. Other mornings I continue to lay in bed, never wanting to escape the warm weight of blankets until I hear those first sounds of children waking.
In one moment, as soon as one child wakes, it is as if a light switches on, the morning becomes an erratic flurry of activity. Sometimes we listen to music, sometimes books are read, clothes get put on early or late, food is demanded instantly or soggy bowls of cereal are pushed aside. Toast is requested 3 times or not at all.
Motherhood is much less certain that I thought it would be.
Beyond the fairy tales and picture perfect daydreams, beyond hopes and goals, I find the minute details of motherhood particularly unpredictable.
It drives me a little batty.
I hear so many voices and requests and pleas throughout the day that sometimes it feels as if I cannot distinguish between my own thoughts and my children’s vocal outbursts.
I needed a reset. A couple of days where we left our messy routine and did something completely different. My hope was that novelty would bring about new thoughts and ideas and fortunately it did just that.
Over spring break, I took the two boys on a trip to Seattle with the purpose of getting away from normalcy. We woke to beautiful sunshine each day–a Seattle spring miracle! We visited animals at the zoo with my brother and played with friends at a playground. We walked, just us, around the arboretum waterfront and got dumplings with a friend for lunch.
It was total bliss.
I found myself filled with an increased joy and love for my children. Fresh perspective allowed me to see how capable and funny Max is and how sweet and adjusting Daniel can be. As we walked along a bridge, Max skipping in front of me towards Marsh Island, a moment of clarity came.
I love motherhood.
It’s responsibility and weight can be exasperating but in that moment, it felt light as air, its divinity remembered beneath the glorious Seattle sun.
I felt capable. I felt renewed purpose. I felt immense hope for the years ahead.
As I have thought about it, I wondered why it hit me with such intensity away from home. Surely, a fresh canvas helped, but is it always so hard to see within our everyday?
Then I remembered.
At the end of each day, we have a set bedtime routine. Pajamas, brushing teeth, scriptures, family prayer, and once finished we play follow the leader into their bedroom where hugs and kisses are given. They know the routine and it feels much less harried. I think of those moments when I hug Daniel and Max and notice within those expressions of love all the frustrations and impatience of the day wash away. My role as a mother, as their mother, lifts my heart and soul. A weight lifts. I see with clarity the fundamental nature of my role as a mother: to love these children with intention. As we exchange “I love you”s, I feel that purpose fulfilled and refreshed and imprinted.
They know a mother’s love and in turn, I understand it better.
It doesn’t always take a trip away to see divinity within our everyday, but it definitely can help.
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