We Are Mothers

I’m sitting at the bottom of the stairs, defeated again by 3 boys who refuse to go to bed. I’ve just battled to get a nappy on two wriggly legs, and tirelessly shouted for the umpteenth time to stop turning on the light. I hate shouting at my little babies and always worry afterwards.

I’m reposting this blog, as reading it here, in my vulnerable tired state, made me cry. I’m going to tip toe back upstairs, instead of marching, and will kiss and cuddle each gorgeous boy to sleep. Thanks for bringing me back to reality.

It Ain't All Flowers

We are the women with heavy eyelids, hectic homes, and full hearts.

We are mothers.

When our little one forgot his favorite blanket in the car this morning, we left work to take it to him. We wiped butts, played chauffeur, cooked dinner, cleaned messes, gave baths, read books, and chased away monsters. Not once today did anyone say, Thank you.

We are unacknowledged, but we will wake up and do it all again tomorrow.

We are mothers.

Dinnertime tonight was a disaster. Our big kids complained about everything, fought with each other, and didn’t want to eat what we made for them. Our toddlers screamed and threw food across the floor because they didn’t get a nap. In all of the chaos, we yelled at our kids. Then retreated to the bathroom and cried because we lost our temper with them, again.

We are frustrated, but we always forgive and…

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