Mother’s Day 2022
This past Sunday, as my children slept in (very uncharacteristically) and I thought of the 225 things I could and should do instead of accepting I had time, quiet time (very characteristically…the overthinking, not the time), I turned to Brian and said: I used to assume I’d be a mom. Then, I got older and parenthood was something real. I didn’t know if I wanted to be a mom. I still can’t believe I am one now. I never knew how very much I needed these babies. People often say it’ll get easier as your kids get older, and as much as I crave easier, I cling so tightly (perhaps too much so) to each moment, each milestone. I want my meals and my bed to be my own again, and I want to drink my coffee while it’s still hot. But I crave (equally?) those moments where I’ve got my kids balanced on each hip and I’m pretty sure I had two bites of my dinner before they made it theirs. I’m exhausted but I don’t want to miss a moment. So instead of putting E in his crib or carrying H to her bed, I f