I was frustrated this morning. Like many mornings, I had already been up for several hours and felt like I was just running in circles. My mom was coming, as she does a couple times a week, which meant I had a whole list of things running through my head that needed to get done, that I wanted to get done, with a few hours “kid-free”. And yet, here I was, not showered yet, not having eaten yet, house a mess, trying to make baby boy happy with breakfast, juggling dirty dishes overwhelming the already measly counter space, thinking of all I still had to do and how far “behind” I was for my imagined productive day. And I thought about writing a post on how chaotic and crazy our days are as mommas. I thought about writing all the battles that are fought and won, all the daily, mundane tasks that must be done day in and day out, how you feel like you’re a hamster spinning on an ever speedier wheel. Not to complain so much as to empathize, to let you know you’re not alone and that so many days feel like they are lost to the non-stop to-do list. But then, then, for whatever reason, I stopped mid-frustrated thought and the words in my head changed.
Instead of all the things I “had” to do this morning up until the moment I sat down to type this post and beyond, here are some of the things I “got” to do today.
This morning, I got to workout. Then, I got to make my son a special breakfast of banana chocolate chip pancakes. He wanted chocolate chips. I wanted nutrition. Banana + Flax + Oats + a few Bittersweet Chocolate chips later and he was happily enjoying a fun breakfast from momma. I got to slow down, even in the rush, and give him some extra love.
Then I got to shower. And shave. While one baby napped and the other played with Gigi. I got to pump again, for the 2nd time today, providing my sweet baby girl with more food, nutrition, and love. I got to pick E up from her crib and hold her sweet little body close to mine before preparing her feed. I got to put that hard-earned milk into her feeding pump and sit with her while her feed ran. I got to read her some books to help keep her calm while she was confined for her feed.
I had a client. I got to talk with a scared momma and tell her what a great job she’s doing. I got to realize again, even as our session ran well over its allotted time, how much I love my job, love working with moms and trying to help this journey of motherhood feel just a little bit more manageable and less out of control. I got to see in my own love and desire to give this mother grace, how much I needed to give it to myself.
Then, I got to sit with my fiercely tantruming toddler. I got to listen to him scream and cry and beg as his overwhelming world shook from some perceived injustice on his sweet little soul. I got to bite my tongue and take deep breaths, I got to practice patience and love and being present. I got to hold space for my sweet boy as he tried to reconcile his wants and feelings with the reality we were allowing. Then I got to sit and read to that little, tear-stain faced boy, as nap time rituals were tested and pushed to give room for his big feelings. I got to help him navigate his frustration and satisfy his need for a “win” with a compassionate compromise. I got to hold him against me and sing him songs as he sniffled into my shoulder.
I got to race down the stairs and hurriedly eat some food before pumping again and rushing out the door to get some work done in the few hours left before I went “on duty” again as momma. Later, I get to make dinner for my family. I get to clean up the house we are making each day into a home. I get to soothe my tired babes as they fuss, needing bed, wanting more day to explore. I get to pump, again, storing milk in the fridge for my daughter’s next feed, as my body works to keep her nourished and healthy and strong until the day she wants to do it for herself. I get to muster up the energy to catch up with my husband, after the kids are snuggled in bed. I get to spend a few moments with him, as we both press pause on our ever-growing to-do lists to remember that we get to keep doing them together.
Motherhood is hard. Many days, it feels like a lot of “giving”, but I’m trying to remember that there’s a lot of “getting”. My doula introduced me to a song that has become “my” daughter’s. My favorite lyrics of the song say…
This morning, I got to workout. Then, I got to make my son a special breakfast of banana chocolate chip pancakes. He wanted chocolate chips. I wanted nutrition. Banana + Flax + Oats + a few Bittersweet Chocolate chips later and he was happily enjoying a fun breakfast from momma. I got to slow down, even in the rush, and give him some extra love.
Then I got to shower. And shave. While one baby napped and the other played with Gigi. I got to pump again, for the 2nd time today, providing my sweet baby girl with more food, nutrition, and love. I got to pick E up from her crib and hold her sweet little body close to mine before preparing her feed. I got to put that hard-earned milk into her feeding pump and sit with her while her feed ran. I got to read her some books to help keep her calm while she was confined for her feed.
I had a client. I got to talk with a scared momma and tell her what a great job she’s doing. I got to realize again, even as our session ran well over its allotted time, how much I love my job, love working with moms and trying to help this journey of motherhood feel just a little bit more manageable and less out of control. I got to see in my own love and desire to give this mother grace, how much I needed to give it to myself.
Then, I got to sit with my fiercely tantruming toddler. I got to listen to him scream and cry and beg as his overwhelming world shook from some perceived injustice on his sweet little soul. I got to bite my tongue and take deep breaths, I got to practice patience and love and being present. I got to hold space for my sweet boy as he tried to reconcile his wants and feelings with the reality we were allowing. Then I got to sit and read to that little, tear-stain faced boy, as nap time rituals were tested and pushed to give room for his big feelings. I got to help him navigate his frustration and satisfy his need for a “win” with a compassionate compromise. I got to hold him against me and sing him songs as he sniffled into my shoulder.
I got to race down the stairs and hurriedly eat some food before pumping again and rushing out the door to get some work done in the few hours left before I went “on duty” again as momma. Later, I get to make dinner for my family. I get to clean up the house we are making each day into a home. I get to soothe my tired babes as they fuss, needing bed, wanting more day to explore. I get to pump, again, storing milk in the fridge for my daughter’s next feed, as my body works to keep her nourished and healthy and strong until the day she wants to do it for herself. I get to muster up the energy to catch up with my husband, after the kids are snuggled in bed. I get to spend a few moments with him, as we both press pause on our ever-growing to-do lists to remember that we get to keep doing them together.
Motherhood is hard. Many days, it feels like a lot of “giving”, but I’m trying to remember that there’s a lot of “getting”. My doula introduced me to a song that has become “my” daughter’s. My favorite lyrics of the song say…
You should know, little baby, that I am the lucky one.
I get to be the one to hold your hand
I get to be the one
Through birthdays and broken bones
I’ll be there to watch you grow
I get to be the one.
I get to be the one to hold your hand
I get to be the one
Through birthdays and broken bones
I’ll be there to watch you grow
I get to be the one.
Here’s to more days of “getting to”, not “having to”.