It seems many days feel like the throes of motherhood rather than the joys. We (gus and therefore I have no choice....) wake up at an ungodly hour. Long before the sun rises. I drag myself out of bed, wondering how it's already morning, and sleepily stumble into his room. He searches for his pacifier and blanket and stands up in his crib. He says, "stair." So I carry him downstairs as he talks to me in his language that i don't always completely understand yet. I set him on the couch and cover him just so with his precious blanket. The blanket that belonged to me as a child. Pale pink, blue and yellow patchwork....coming undone in spots. Little knobs of yarn sticking out amongst the pattern. I'm sure there is a technical term for those pieces of yarn but I don't know it. He sits content sucking on his pacifier and blankie in hand, where he rubs the yarn between his little fingers. A form of comfort for him. He says, "bowl." So off I go to get him his sippy cup of milk and bowl of cereal. I like to have multiple kinds on hand, just to change it up a bit. My husband laughs at me for the number of cereal boxes in the cupboard. But hey, gotta spice up life a little, right? And then we sit and watch TV for as long as gus can sit still. Lately, we watch the Gruffalo. He is enthralled. So i let him watch it day after day....just for a precious few more moments of rest. Don't judge. The rest is brief. But, I'll take the extra 15-20 minutes of calm. Then, after some fuel, gus is fully awake. He likes to play a little game called "let's see how we can wake up the rest of the house." So I chase him out of rooms and tell him to be quiet, stop playing the piano, stuff like that. Which he usually responds by yelling, "STOP!" back at me. Really loud. Oy. He is a sweet boy but can be such a stinker. This is how our mornings go most days. And then slowly, one by one, another child awakes. Breakfast is made. School lunch is packed. There is often nagging about getting dressed, eat your breakfast, is your homework in your backpack etc.... Then, Owen is off to school. The bickering begins with the younger two. Moments are rare these days where the little ones truly get along. Yes, there are sweet and tender moments but right now max does not have the tolerance for a little brother getting into his stuff or taking away his toys. Nor does he really like to share. Little bro does not understand any such concepts. He just wants to be a part of it all. So, most of the day is spent reasoning and refereeing, listening to whining and tears, apologies with a rare moment of peace in between. Nap time is a lifesaver. Max is much happier. It is a reprieve from the constant battles of brotherhood.
And so the day goes on....meals are prepared and eaten. Tiny faces and fingers are wiped clean. There is smiling. From them. From me too. There is laughter. There are more tears. There is creating. There is imagining. There is playing. There is more fighting. Big brother returns from school. He is the peacemaker. All is right with the world in little brothers' eyes once big bro is home. Another meal is prepared. Conversations are enjoyed while eating. After dinner, bath (and shower) time begins. Max has taken a liking to showering. Most nights you can hear him loudly singing a song. Dirty hands and feet are scrubbed. The fine strands of hair on my baby are washed carefully, so as not to drip water in his eyes or tears will begin to flow. Goofiness ensues after bath. Three little boys all wrapped cozy in their towels. Towels which are soon dropped to the floor. Three wild boys are now running free in their birthday suits. Giggling and smiling toothy grins from ear to ear. Those birthday suits that I have seen from birth. Ones I know by heart. Ones where I can point out each little mole and birthmark. Each little scrape or scar. I say the "fuzzy wuzzy was a bear" rhyme while i dry my little ones' hair. It is bedtime. A time that i look forward to most days. Books are read. There are snuggles and rocking. There are prayers. Songs are sung. Night lights and stars are turned on. Whispers of I love you and sweet dreams are said. There is peace.
Sometimes, I feel, motherhood becomes a bit monotonous. I certainly feel the monotony of day to day has put a damper on my creative side as well. Taking the same pictures over and over again it seems....making this blog uninteresting. But, then I have to remind myself that it's the day to day I want to remember....little glimpses of time when they were little. I can't forget and am often reminded....(even if, some days, I don't want the reminder that they're only little once) That this time needs to be cherished. Every little bit. For one day, those little faces won't need wiping. Boo boos won't need kissing. They won't want to lay their head on my shoulder at night while I sing them twinkle, twinkle little star. It will all be but a distant memory. So, for now, I must learn to cherish the day to day. To endure the not so fun parts of motherhood. To keep on keeping on. Learn to embrace it all. The good, the bad, and the ugly.
Because I know one day I will miss it.
