Baffled. That is the term my third grade son used to describe the look on his baby sisters face the other night. After getting over the fact that he even knew such a word, let alone used it correctly, I realized that is a word I could use quite often to describe the way I feel about the course of events that have taken place in my life over recent years. I mean, who are these kids, and why are they calling me mom?
Motherhood is something I have looked forward to since I was old enough to push my baby brother around in my doll stroller (much sturdier than the ones they make nowadays, of course) and make up songs at the top of my lungs. But four kids later, there are still moments when I hear someone yelling for mom, and my weary mind wonders why their mom is taking so long to answer, only to remember my long awaited dream is reality, and those are my bones that need to drag out of bed to go scare the boogy man away.
Same goes for when there is evidence of grand times all over the floor, and after tripping on it several times wondering why no one has picked it up yet, the thought occurs to me that it will stay that way until you- know -who decides to do it. That IS going to change, you know.
In spite of the chaos, in spite of the curtain climbing, caterwauling, and general zoo-like atmosphere, I wouldn't want it any other way. Because those small fries who swing from the chandeliers- (okay, more like pull string single light bulbs) show such big love that a few sleepless nights and toy encased floors and food encrusted tables ain't no thing... those extra hugs from a little boy who's going to spend the night at grammy's or a little girl who says "mommy, you look berry handsome" are the moments that make everything else minor. ..
Okay folks... here goes. I guess I am entering the world of blogging in hopes that someday my kids can look back on these posts, and see what royal monkeys they really were.