I’m a mom. A really ‘normal’ mom. I have two little boys, a husband and a large dog. I have a full-time office job. We live on a cul-de-sac in a small city in Kentucky. My husband is a teacher and a coach. I drive a crossover SUV with two car seats in the back.
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My life is so far from the glamorous life I thought I would be living 10 years ago. At the time, I was single, I had just gotten my first ‘real’ job out of college and I was living in Nashville with a disposable income and fun at my fingertips. They were the days when I said that I never wanted to have children because, well, those days were all about me.
My daily routine now would make my 23-year-old self drop her $17 martini on her expensive purse that was put on an almost maxed-out credit card.
Nowadays, I wake up at 4:30 a.m. seven days a week to feed the baby. I do a 30 minute workout in the basement. I go upstairs, shower, get the kids ready for the day, blah, blah, blah.
I work all day. I pick the kids up from the sitter. Bring them home and feed them. Play or watch a little television. Then move on to baths and bedtime for the kids.
Then I go to sleep and start all over the next day.
Yes, it can be monotonous.
Yes, I am often wearing leggings and an oversized sweatshirt when I’m not at the office. Right now I am sitting in my bed typing this while my 3-year-old is supposed to be napping but is instead jumping on his bed and emptying his drawers. My hair is in a topknot. If I took the ponytail holder out, it might actually stay in that topknot.
Since it’s the weekend, I spent this morning feeding children, attempting to put toys away before they were taken out again, scrubbing what appeared to be a large batch of boogers off my 3-year-old’s bedroom wall and doing load after load of laundry. My 6-month-old has spit up on me multiple times and I am still wearing the same sweatshirt with the spit-up on it...eight hours later.
Yes, it can be ‘gross.’
I have been desensitized to gross. I talk about poop like it’s the weather. I don’t even gag when changing a blowout diaper anymore. If I think my kid might vomit, I hold my hands out to catch it. I wipe snotty noses with my shirt sleeve. I don’t wince if my dog licks spit-up off the baby’s face. And I don’t blink an eye at any of it.
And you know what? I wouldn’t trade this life for anything.
Nothing could replace these people, this extreme feeling of love and the family we’ve built.
Yes, sometimes I might say I want to run away for a week all by myself.
Yes, there have been days where I have absolutely lost it and yelled at the kids to get in the tub.
Yes, I have mornings when I take a super long shower and cry, simply because I am so frustrated and tired and don’t know if I can make it through the day.
Yes, I have locked myself in the bathroom just to get some peace and quiet.
But those moments aren’t the things I think about when I review my life.
I think about how my life really just began when I got married and I had my now 3-year-old.
I think about how these babies have made me the best possible version of myself.
I think about how I would lay down my life to save my children.
I think about their infectious laughs and how they light me up from the inside.
I think about the amazing feeling I get when I walk in to pick them up from the sitter and see their happy faces.
I think about how dull and boring my life would be without them.
I think back and wonder what on earth my husband and I spent all our time doing before we had children.
I think about how they can make any bad day better.
I think about how insanely worried I get when they are sick. And how I cuddle them and help them feel better and watch them peacefully sleep.
I think about not even caring when they vomit on me because I just want them to feel better.
I think about how my heart is capable of holding so much more love than I ever thought imaginable.
I think about how wonderful of a dad my husband is and how I fell even deeper in love with him after we had our children.
I think about my children and my heart absolutely explodes with love. I would do all the gross and all the boring and all the mundane and all the monotonous over and over and over again just to be their mama.
I am living the life that I am meant to be living.
From the outside looking in, you might see an overtired 30-something trying to keep up with the day-to-day grind of life to provide for her family. You might see two little boys with mischievous smiles and snotty noses being wrestled into their car seats and wonder why I keep doing what I’m doing.
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Well, I do it because of this intense, all-encompassing love. And because—I know it is exactly what I am supposed to be doing. This is my life, and I couldn’t be more proud of it.