Hugs shared with love, smelling of cookies and offered with arms softer than silk, hurt.
Cuddling on the couch, watching movies or reading books, happens less and less.
Every touch has the potential to cause pain.
Knobby knees and pointy elbows, need I say more?
Screaching, squealing, screaming, oh my!
Laundry and dishes, breakfast, snack, lunch, snack and dinner, over and over and over again.
After a half hour of cleaning, at the slowest pace possible, the job is incomplete and your energy is depleted, you hobble/walk to the couch only to hear “Mommy! I’m hungry!”. Up you jump/stumble to the kitchen. You hobble/walk back to the couch only to hear “Mom! So-and-so did this-and-that to me-or-us!”. Get the idea?
Disciplinary threats are ignored because those little stinkers can tell if I’m feeling too poorly to follow-up and they know for a fact that I can’t make it downstairs on my really bad days. It’s the “make me” attitude to the tenth power.
When I’m crying, even though I don’t want them to know I’m sad, they tell me “It’s okay Mommy”.
When I’m depressed and questioning my existence, they need me and I’m so happy I’m here and that someone needs me.
While they used to just throw themselves into me, they’ve learned not to jump on Mom and how to give soft hugs.
They help me with dishes and laundry. They pick up the living room, vacuum, sweep and mop.
I used to be the Mom who did it all. Worked 40 hours a week, did all the inside chores, took kids to school and practice.
Now I can barely do the Mom thing.
Let’s not talk about the wife thing. That is a whole other post!