It’s a typical Monday morning, and once again, I find myself behind the bathroom door, taking refuge from my two rambunctious boys. Just two minutes of solitude is all I need to navigate the morning mayhem and gulp down enough coffee to appear somewhat functional.
As I sit in my sanctuary, enjoying this brief escape, I hear our dog howling and the boys getting increasingly loud. They’re not distressed; they’ve simply discovered that raising their voices gets a reaction, and it’s downright entertaining to see my frustration boil over. They have no idea that I’m only human, with a limited supply of patience and energy to give before I’m completely drained.
They don’t comprehend that breakfast cannot consist of cookies every single morning, or that chicken nuggets at every meal isn’t the best idea. They don’t realize that diabetes isn’t a joke, and that green beans are a necessity for their growth and energy, especially for those ninja moves they love to perform.
The concept of safety seems lost on them, too. When I yell at them for attempting cannonballs off the couch onto hardwood floors, they think it’s cruel, not understanding that broken hearts are far better than broken bones. They don’t see why running in the streets or playing with dad’s table saw is off-limits. They’re oblivious to the danger sharp knives and hot stoves pose. To them, I’m just the fun-sucking, sugar-hoarding parent who seems to relish in saying “no.”
What they don’t know is the weight of all this responsibility. Each day, I rise with the best intentions, only to go to bed each night hoping tomorrow will be better. I feel every little victory and defeat intensely, making each day feel like a battle. They don’t realize that sometimes I feel like I’m sinking, but for their sake, I always choose to swim.
One day, they will understand. When they have children of their own, they’ll learn that convincing their kids that tomatoes aren’t evil will be one of their biggest challenges. They’ll come to appreciate the importance of a consistent bedtime routine and how it leads to a well-rested family.
They’ll discover that a glass of wine can be a small but powerful remedy after a long day. They’ll realize that maintaining mental stability can be a struggle, and that sanity is a precious treasure. They will understand the bittersweet nature of time, where days stretch on forever, yet years slip away far too quickly.
Recently, while grocery shopping on senior discount day (not the best time to shop, by the way), the store’s radio played “I’m Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman” by Britney Spears. It struck a chord with me, in that frozen food aisle, and I had a moment of clarity. Motherhood is a daily juggling act of laughter, tears, triumphs, and failures, and that’s perfectly okay. My life may not always seem perfectly organized, but I’m figuring it out day by day. It’s alright to question my choices and to celebrate the small victories, like surviving a day without a meltdown from the kids.
My boys may not grasp any of this right now, but they will eventually. They’ll learn that life is a beautiful mess, filled with challenges that often don’t make sense. This journey of growing up is ongoing, and it’s perfectly fine to not have everything figured out.
For now, it’s their time to enjoy the chaos of Cheerios and dance to their favorite songs, while I prepare to rejoin the family. Just two minutes later, I’m ready to dive back in.