Yesterday on instagram, I posted this pic with the caption, “It doesn’t suck to be the mama around here.” And I meant it.
There is literally nothing I love more than being the mama in the house here at the Miller Manor.
There are days when I think if I hear the word “mom” even one more time I might scream, yes.
There are days when I was up all night worrying about a sick child, but the demands of the day don’t care how tired I am at all, yes.
There are days when the house is a complete disaster, 100 errands need to be run, meals need to be cooked and more money than we seem to have needs to be spent, yes.
I am also the only person in the house who knows how to scrub a toilet, cook a meal, find a shoe, plan a treat for preschool, remember an important date, schedule an appointment, soothe a tantrum, nurture a sickness, carry a child in my womb.
I am the person who spends hours upon hours researching vaccines, birth options, discipline methods, attachment parenting, baby-wearing, milk production, clean eating, natural living, chicken-coop-building, speech therapy, coping mechanisms, keeping a marriage happy, meal planning, house keeping, business building, budgets, living simply, eastern medicine, western medicine, chemical-free everything, preventative health measures, carseat safety, home decor, home school/public school/private school.
I have marks on my skin from sharing my body with them, grey hairs from the stress of caring for them, and lines forming around my mouth and eyes that only years of smiling and laughing can create.
In the last 5 years, I have likely spent most of my sleeping hours awake, my alone time with at least one of my children, my sick days working, my work days serving, my child-free hours talking about my children.
I have been stretched and marked and sucked on. I have been puked and peed and pooped on. I have been bitten and hit and more hairs than I have currently my head have been pulled out, I’m certain.
But I’ve also been squished and snuggled and loved on more than any person in the house. I have had more open-mouth sloppy kisses covering my face, more toothless grins to wake up to, more sweet caressing in the wee hours of the night. More excited stories told to, more proud pictures given to, more hand-picked bouquets received. I’ve wiped away the final tears, kissed away the hurt, made the world right again time after time after time.
I’m the first one to get a kiss when Daddy gets home from work, the first running hug recipient after I’m away, the first name to be called out in the night when someone needs a love. I hear more about their days than anyone else, I hear more about their worries and fears and hopes and dreams. I hear more giggles, see more smiles, watch more loving acts, learn more from these children than anyone else in the world.
I know their favorite colors, favorite dresses, favorite foods, favorite movies, favorite parks, favorite friends, favorite things to do. I know what makes them nervous and know how to make them feel better. I have shared my body with them, my food with them, my bed with them, my showers with them. I have given them the last bite of everything.
I’m the one they talk most like and act most like. I’m the one they want to be some day.
I have completely given up everything in my life for them and they have done nothing short of changing me in the most beautiful ways. They love me with the purest love this life has to offer. They accept me in a way not one other soul could. Being a mama is hard work, but it pays back in an eternity of blessings.
It really does not suck being the mama around here. Not one tiny bit.