Thoughts

I was getting ready for bed and I just kept having these thoughts go through my head and I had to get them out. It's really not that interesting or life altering.....just thoughts.

I love my blog. My blog, my little corner of the world where I can let myself out. I try to use it as a sort of journal, letting some of the best and funnier moments of my life shine forth. I paint lovely, pretty pictures of my darling girls (which they are), and exclaim how wonderful my life is (which it is). I don't like to put negative things on here because I think manure repells people, even me, to my own manure pile. Having kids is hard enough when you dwell on it. So I paint pretty pictures to help me focus on the good aspects of being a mother.

However, I have to get these thoughts in my head out and "on paper" so to speak. I read other people's blogs about how much they love being mothers and I wonder where I missed the train. The day to day stuff is boring, hard, and monotanous. Those mother's must love their kids more than I love mine. It would be a lie if I said that I loved being a mother. Don't get me wrong....I LOVE my girls, but I'm not head over heels in love with being a mother.

I don't love waking up multiple times in the night, just to have to wake up early and not get a nap during the day to make up for it.

I don't love changing poopy diapers (or underwear for that matter).

I don't love trying a dozen different things before I figure out that Regan wants turkey meat and pickles for breakfast.

I don't love picking up the same messes day after day.

I don't love being a referee between the girls.

I don't love not being able to do things that I want to do.

I don't love trying to entertain the girls to keep them happy day after day.

I don't love cleaning up lipstick, pen, marker, vaseline, you name it, all over eachother and everything (like our new couch).

I don't love disciplining.

I don't love to hear whining.

I don't love wrestling the kids through church.

I don't love looks the girls give me like I've just broken their hearts.

I don't love seeing them sick or in pain.

I don't love being with them all day, caring for them all day, and doing pretty much everything for them all day, for them to favor their daddy over me.

I don't love the guilt that comes from wondering if I'm doing a good enough job.

I love moments of being a mother.

I love when Sophie kisses me and makes the "muah" sound.

I love when Regan sings with me.

I love watching them hug and kiss eachother.

I love hearing Regan scream that Sophie is climing the stairs and then go get Sophie and see a triumphant look on her face.

I love watching them dance.

I love looking at them while they are asleep.

I love watching them discover something new.

I love doing Regan's hair (when she lets me).

I love looking at their smiling faces and thinking that they are the most beautiful children alive.

You know, it seems that the cons outweigh the pros. I mean how does a little dance hold up to poop smeared all over the bathtub mutliple times? Or barf, food, pee, and pen all over the new couch? Yet somehow in this crazy world............it does. The world continues to be populated. Families continue to grow. We will have more children (not this minute mind you).

I guess in all my rambling, I really want my girls to look back when they are mother's and realize that some of the same things they are feeling and going through are normal. I want them to know and understand that I truly do love them and want all things good for them. I am new at this motherhood thing and most of the time I just pray that I get it right.....that what I'm doing is going to help them. Isn't that the common bond that links mothers together? The hope that what you are doing will make a difference and help your child reach their full potential? So maybe I am a real mother and not just a faker like I've felt for a long time. Maybe I do rank up with those mothers that have that same goal in mind. Maybe I didn't miss the train, I'm just on the caboose and trying to get my bearings. Maybe....just maybe.