Just read this lovely blog entry Living in the Present from fellow FHM member, Taira. I’m sure it will resonate with many of you.
My present is as glorious as it is mundane. It is pleasing everyone and pleasing no one. It is poop on the floors, on the patio, on the rug, on the bed, on the tiny little feet padding into the room to say, “Mommy, I poop.”
It is moments where patience escapes me entirely and I raise my voice to an uncharacteristic pitch only to be met with three little boy voices in stereo mimicking my tone and teaching me a lesson all in one tiny phrase flowing from the mouth of a two year old: “you bad, Mommy, you bad.”
It is cooking dinner with a glass of wine, chatting with a friend at the kitchen table, running out in to the yard to rescue the hose swinging like a lasso and spraying everyone in sight, and then stepping in the poop on the patio and hearing the dreaded phrase, “I poop, Mommy, I poop.”
It is wandering the aisles of the supermarket staring at labels, looking at ingredients, calculating the nutrients, agonizing over protein content, separating the toddlers pulling each other’s hair in the car cart that barely navigates the corners, and losing the five year old to the display of fruit.
It is waiting like a clock watching fool for the front door to open, relief to come, smiles to gleam, boys to run to someone else and grab his legs, extra hands to change the diaper or clean up the poop that fell out of it.
It is a moment to wash dishes alone that feels like heaven even as I rush to finish before little feet come padding naked from the bath and soon three sets run races around the table laughing and screaming, their towels streaming behind them like capes.
It is reading book after book before ecstatically laying the sweet, sweaty boys into their beds and drowning them with kisses and then breathing deeply as the door snaps shut.
It is stories of antics and successes flying over the mouth of beer bottles and drowning in the glasses of wine, so exhausted that we fight to stay awake an hour longer than the children and then give up the fight and collapse into bed praying that we will stay there all night.
It is an alarm clock that yells, “Mommy!” at 5 am and continues with a cry from the other crib and then is met with a loud, “Hello!” from the other room…it is up and moving and running and dressed and eating by 6 am and wondering how to keep them entertained until the first place opens at 9 am.
It is occasional nights away circling with women who make me feel like I am not alone in the world, having dinner and drinks with my husband and remembering what being alone feels like. It is sneaking away every now and then after a quick and messy dinner, leaving behind naked bottoms that need to be diapered and dishes that need to be washed, so that I can stretch my body in yoga or expand my mind while writing in another circle of women, of acceptance, of creative flow and leaving there exhausted but full of love and hope and pages in a journal.
It is morning play dates with other tired mamas, coffee in hand ,jumping up and down to tend to the children and never missing a beat in the conversation about our next big challenge or the most annoying thing or the way our children have turned us into crazy people.
It is, above all, about love.
Exhausting, fulfilling, overwhelming, magical, unconditional, painful, messy, loud, chaotic, silly, desperate, unending love for each and every person who makes the days pass by on the calendar like water through a funnel and brings me eventually to a tomorrow where I will look back and long for the joy of today.
See pictures of her little poopers and read other entries on Taira’s blog: My Three Little Boys
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