by Rachel

May 8th, 2017

 It’s the week before Mother’s Day and most of our kids don’t have a clue, but our husbands are starting to panic about making the day special, so that’s sort of fun.

There’s a lot of pressure this time of year for moms, too.

We are on the home stretch of another school year and we’ve lost the will to continue. We can smell summer. We long for its freedom and are terrified of it for the same reason.

We are wondering how we got here so quickly with babies in the nest or teens learning to fly out of it. We spend a childhood building a home, and just when we think we’ve got it figured out, we look around and it’s empty. We raise these babies–not to keep, but to teach them how to leave. It’s the perfect heartbreak.

I’m no parenting expert, but one time a child of mine did say that I was the best mother she ever had. So, there’s that. I love being a mom.

At the end of the day–no matter how many mismatched socks are in the laundry basket or how many eye rolls I’ve endured, I am glad I said yes to motherhood. But it’s no surprise that motherhood is hard–hard like crying yourself to sleep. Hard like second-guessing every decision. Hard like catching someone else’s bodily fluids with you hands. Hard like giving up pie. "A mother is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie.” -Tenneva Jordan

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