Motherhood Handbook: Part I, Phase I

It’s 8:45.

I’ve only been awake for about two hours, thanks to my husband’s brilliant idea to take the nightlight out of our sons’ bedroom (who knew that was the source of their penchants for early mornings?), but I’ve already completed Part I, Phase I of the “Snow Day Morning” section of the 2017 edition of the Motherhood Handbook.

Made breakfast, cleaned up from breakfast, dressed my children, taken my potty-training toddler to the bathroom six seven times, put on a bra, washed our bathmats, fluffed the laundry, cleaned up Legos, over-watered a new house plant, cleaned up the water that leaked out of the pot of the new house plant, lit two candles, watched my kids play inside-baseball, administered antibiotics and inhaler and stopped a fight over two identical balloons, tied to two identical chairs – all while waxing and waning between overflowing love for the opportunity to stay home with my beloved children and pure, boiling hatred for the house that is holding me hostage.

It’s a pretty typical morning.

Because with each new day comes a new wave of annoyance at little things, like having to repeat the phrase “We don’t hit in this family.” for the 27,586th time, followed by a tsunami of mom-guilt over said-annoyance, all rounded out by an aftershock of gratitude for our little place in the world and these tiny people who I am lucky enough to call mine.

 

To put it simply, it’s a hormonal catastrophe of epic proportions, each and every single day of my life.

But as mentioned in Appendix B – Dealing with your Insane Emotions: Post-Baby Phase, of the Motherhood Handbook, this is to be expected. You will cry on the toilet, with your head in your hands and your pants around your ankles. You will lock your bedroom door so that you can sneak an ice cream bar without someone else begging for a bite. You will scream into a pillow and pray for bedtime with the fervor of a Pentecostal preacher.

And you will cry quiet tears of joy listening to your five-year-old read a Batman book to his utterly enthralled little brother. You will smell your toddlers hair over and over again, as if you could capture his scent completely and forever. And you will wrap your arms around both of them, and hold them tight, willing them to stay small and sweet forever.

Until one of them wipes a booger on you and the other spills his milk on the couch.

Good luck!

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