Sleeping Babies Always Make It Right

Last year I decided that I would write an entry for each of my children describing where they were and what changes had happened over the past year. Before we even rung in the New Year, I've been trying to wrap my brain around words that would not come. Last week I had it on my mental to do list to write down something that wasn't there yet. It was a week that I just didn't really want to be a mom. (Note: if you are someone that just gasped as you read that sentence, it's probably best you stop reading my blog altogether. I'm a realist for the most part, and I won't apologize for that.) I didn't want to pack a snack or make a lunch for school. I didn't feel like doing homework with my son or figure out what was for dinner. I was tired of laundry and cleaning up after a family. I had to force myself to worry about how many vegetables and fruits the kids ate, and believe me, I was DONE changing dirty diapers (Lilah's virus has over stayed its welcome). The kids were not bad. In fact, they have been pretty well behaved besides a tantrum here and there from a certain three year old (a repeat of his older brother's at that same age). It wasn't the kids who made me not want to be mommy last week. It just happens once and a while.

When that first child enters into the world, a woman takes on the most amazing role of her life; however, at that exact same moment, she loses a little piece of herself. Her identity. You become Landon's mom, Noah's mom, Lilah's mom. Almost every week of the year, that's the best role in the world. I have been asked "are you Landon's mom?" and I proudly answer "yes!" Really--I'm lucky enough to have that title?!?!? It's a treasured one--believe me, I can never write how much the word "mom" means to me. But, there are times when I think that maybe I wasn't made to do this. I day dream about the pre-child days and the freedom that I no longer have. I think of a quiet car ride and a house that stays clean for over an hour. I remember a time when it really didn't matter what was for dinner, and homework was something I had last worried about in college. I remember what it was like to just be responsible for me.

And then---it happens.

This time it worked like this. We stayed at my parents' this past weekend for a night, and when a very late bedtime was upon us, the feeling hit beyond belief. All three of my precious children were tucked in tight in one room. Our tall 6 year old was almost asleep in the twin bed by the window. Our forever growing three year old occupied the twin next to the wall. And our sweet but attitude-filled girl was curled up in the crib close to the door. I sang to them my two songs of love, and then it happened. The feeling. The overwhelming feeling that the only thing that mattered in this world was being a mother to the children of my best friend and husband. Today I enjoyed a car ride full of questions. Today I thought there was little better than sitting in a pew with kids to keep quiet during mass. Today I loved eating in a restaurant at a table set for five. Today I easily dealt with a child that just couldn't go to sleep. Today I remembered that the most important identity for me right now is motherhood. And I liked it. No, I loved it.

So, in the next week or two (as time allows), I will post the entries about my children because let's face it, sleeping babies always make it right.