My current stage of Motherhood manifests as an endless parade of adorably uncooperative circus monkeys. I’m bombarded with endless demands, monster trucks, diapers, feeding, cleaning, toddler wrestling, and hostage negotiations.
Toys are underfoot, on the kitchen counter, in my lap, and on the beds. Laundry is in the floor, on the kitchen table, and hiding in various other places I have yet to discover. The baby sign language DVD is on its second go-around this morning, and Asher is requesting butter for breakfast. Keane’s diaper explosion earned him some one-on-one time with the kitchen sprayer. Is it nap time yet?
This stage of life often plays out like a G-rated Groundhog Day, except my hair never looks as good as Andie MacDowell’s. And I’m covered in more drool.
The only thing I consistently accomplish is loving my boys and keeping them fed. For now, that’s going to have to be enough…because it’s all I can manage. Some days are better than others…some days feel like glaring failures. This phase won’t last forever; I’ll do my best to savor every moment and not wish the time away.
One day, I will miss it. In the not-so-far-off future, I’ll have time to bake, blog, and create. I’ll have time to work out consistently, shower more than twice a week, and little mouths won’t hurt from little teeth. A few years from now, the nursing bras will be packed away (burned, more likely), my lap will feel empty, and my arms will ache to hold my children.