Last week I had a day that I considered one for the record books. It was jam packed full, busy from sun up to several hours past sun down, with little reprieve. It was the kind of day that makes me whine a little bit and feel sorry for how busy and hard my life is. Except, when the moment has passed, I always come back to realize one very important thing.
My life isn’t hard.
I have hard moments… sometimes I have hard days or hard weeks. But at the end of the day, even the hard days, I’m still living in a free country with a warm, comfortable house, clothes to wear, and sufficient food to feed my family. We are healthy. We are safe. We are happy. Such simple reassurances are completely out of reach for so many others around the world. I know this, I know it all the way into my bones and feel it keenly every time I look at my children–my happy, safe, sweet, wonderful children.
I was weary when I wrote that post. I feel weary whenever I think about the grind of daily life. I’m so very busy and rarely feel much of a reprieve. But you want to know what I remember most about the day I wrote about last week? I remember that Ivy told me I was her best friend. It was seven seconds of my entire day, and yet it was the one thing that stuck in my memory. It’s funny to think that as mothers we do all the other stuff, the maintenance and the cleaning and the coming and going because those seven second moments make it all worth it.
I chose this life. Maybe sometimes when I think about how quickly the babies came and how consuming the care of them is, it feels more like this life chose me. But any way you shake it, even when it’s miserably, disastrously hard, mothering is still what I want to be doing with my life.
(And also, writing novels. Book release! Next year, people! It’s getting closer!)
|Collage courtesy of Destinee Blau Photography.|