I’m putting down my pint of Haagen-Dazs just long enough to write a bit. This should be a good indicator of my state of mind. I’m overwhelmed, I’m sinking, I’m drowning, but my heart is so full of all the good things, funny things, amazing things that fill my time.
Like Willa. See those sweet little silver sandals on her feet?
Those are her church sandals. Sassy, yes?
The other day, in the mad rush to get to church on time, I noticed Willa had on her clunky red tennis shoes. “Go put on your sandals.”
“No. I wan’ wear these. These will be fine, Mommy.”
Because I still couldn’t figure out which shoes I would be wearing, I caved and let the child wear what she wanted. Her little victory appeared to go unnoticed until later, during communion, Willa turned to the girl sitting behind her, stuck out her foot and gloated, “Look at the shoes I’m wearing!”
And then there’s the time when I was so mentally unbalanced as to allow my three boys to bake brownies. I got out all of the ingredients, handed them the recipe, and walked away. They got a lesson in fractions, spilled an entire bottle of vanilla, smeared brownie batter on the floor (I think they had some help from their sisters with that one), Adam added ingredients all willy-nilly without measuring and may have overdone it with the baking powder, and they didn’t properly stir things so there were chunks of flour in the finished product.
But, oh, look how proud they were.
Worth every single grey hair it caused.
Let us not forget my baby.
Who is four months old. And absolutely positively THE most difficult baby we’ve ever begged to sleep through the night. But then he falls asleep on my chest and I regret the push for time to pass as I picture him at 16 driving a car and texting and I have a panic attack and beg him to stay a baby forever.
And that’s how I end up clutching the frozen milk fat so closely. Because motherhood makes you certifiable with all the crazy deep love that wells up inside you, even when you sigh and cry a lot over lesson plans, someone stealing the candy out of daddy’s desk, and settling a battle between the baby and the 3 year old over a rabbit.
These people. They make me laugh, they make me cry, they give me anxiety, and they drive me to Haagen-Dazs. But oh, I wouldn’t trade them for the world. Not even for a lifetime supply of mint chocolate chip…