this mom's life

Absolutely nowhere have I found where it says being a mom would be easy. Instead there are books, magazines and websites devoted to making the tough parts bearable. And there are tough parts; headaches and struggles to feel adequate at this job most of us chose to do. For me it was a definite choice. A choice to spend every waking moment caring for and teaching a completely helpless, growing human being. A choice to be, for the first few years at least, the sole repository of knowledge and learning. A choice to have everything I say taken for truth, for good or ill. And to have everything I say repeated back for all to hear at the worst possible moments. But it's been a choice that I am forever grateful I decided to make. For every parenting failure where I've neglected to keep my cool over spilled milk, there are an equal number of spontaneous hugs with chubby little arms thrown around my neck. 
The daily chance to do a better job than the day before is what keeps me going, fighting to be a better mom. And to not let the tough parts leave such a weight on my mind. So I continue to work at being better. At putting the phone away when asked to play and not counting the minutes until we're done. And I struggle with the playing. Jason is the one who's great at playing. Funny voices, made-up songs and make believe come easily for him. I'm better at the practical side of things: making sure she eats and bathes and takes her medicine. But those aren't going to be the things she remembers as she grows up. 

And I need to remember it won't always be this way. A few months ago in a church magazine I came across a quote that really stuck with me. 

"One of our urgent opportunities is to respond to a 

child when he earnestly asks, remembering that

 they don't always ask, that they aren't always

teachable, that they won't always listen."

While typing this post I've been interrupted no less than six times. And each time I try hard to remember this quote. Some days are spent running errands and learning letters while others are spent at home trying to coax my little one to please, come on, please, just go poop. There's no official manual for this type of work. We all just muddle along doing the best we can. And somehow the spontaneous hugs and kisses remain while the tantrums are soon forgotten. The distractions will always be distractions and can wait a while longer. But she is only this age, at this moment, once. Being a mom isn't easy. But I also wouldn't want it any other way.