Sometimes I wish someone would take care of me.
I dream about someone preparing a meal for me, so I don’t have to. The only person who cooks for me is my own mother, which, yes, I do see the irony there.
I dream of waking up in the morning and being able to take care of ME first before I get requests for treats (yes, treats are always requested first), and for breakfast, and a different show, and “oh, mom I need more drink!” I dream of taking care of me before I have to take the dog out, and then feed the dog, and then take the dog out again because he’s still a puppy, then serve a second helping of breakfast to my little humans. And then we’re rushing out the door and… “mom, did you charge my iPad?”
I dream of days in solitude spent in a hotel room, where I can make a mess if I want to (even though I won’t).
I dream of being alone. Alone!? Can you imagine being alone? After the year we’ve had?
I dream of commanding the TV and watching what I want without 10 interruptions every hour.
I dream of long afternoons soaking up the sun, without a care for nap time schedules.
I dream of going shopping without first assessing everyone’s mood and determining how on guard I need to be for a toddler tantrum. Maybe it isn’t worth it and tomorrow would be better?
And listening. Oh, how I dream of being able to say everything only once. I dream of not needing to repeat and repeat and repeat until I am bursting and screaming because no one is listening to me.
I dream of a house where I’m the only one that makes a mess (or not) and everything is exactly where I left it.
I dream of being able to sit in my own thoughts without being interrupted by small voices that say…
Where’s my…
Can you…
I want…
And then they go to bed…
And I find myself missing their smile.
I’m in awe of the freckles that are beginning to appear in the crease of their nose and how they just keep learning, and learning, and learning, even about things I never taught them.
I find myself creeping in their room when their asleep because I want to see their faces one more time before the day is through.
I catch myself watching old videos on my phone because, look how sweet they were.
Look how sweet they are.
Motherhood is complicated. And strange. And gross. And busy. And wonderful. And scary. And so joyous. And a mess. And expanding. And shrinking. And confusing. And love. And forgiveness.
And quite simply…
everything.
