Mothers. Wonderful mothers.
Today is our day. The day where we should be sitting on the couch with our feet up, enjoying the calming music of our choice in an otherwise quiet house. Notice I said "should". My wonderful husband has done so much to help me out today. But still the babe refuses to take a decent nap and cries for his mother. Perhaps that is how it should be (not the refusing to take a decent nap part, but the desire to be with mom is...flattering).
I read a post today that made me say, "Yep!" Really, that's all I could say, because it was so right. I think you should go read it: My mom is my sunrise by The Chocolate Chip Waffle.
And in the same vein as the post by that delicious and chocolaty breakfast food, I would like to say a few things about my own mother. I, too, feel that my mom is my sunrise. She is all glam and fun. In fact, she would prefer to be called "Glammy" rather than any other form of "Grandma". She laughs at every joke. Her house isn't clean, but her clothes are neat. She isn't always on time, but her hair is always done. She tucked me into bed (with a lullaby included, if requested) until I was about 12 years old, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. I love her hugs. Her listening ear. I love how mischievous she is, and that she was willing to take me with her to sneak around, all dressed in black and in the middle of the night, at the church girl's camp where my younger sisters were (which, by the way, isn't a great idea if you want to get invited to camp later on. But it sure was fun). She let me exercise my agency and exert my independence. And she let me cry on her shoulder when I discovered that I was learning things the hard way. I love how she looks all in white, in the House of the Lord. There she has a tear in her eye as she gives me a hug, and I remember, this is eternal. Oh yes, my mother is most definitely my sunrise.
And, here I am now. A mother. That shiny, dried crust on my shoulder is my badge of honor. My secret handshake is the ability to dry tears and lay my child down to sleep. I've said once before, that being a mother (specifically a stay-at-home mother) IS the hardest job you can have, because it is 24/7...and you have to PAY SOMEONE ELSE to get a break...and the whole time you are on that break, you are worrying about whether or not you will have a job to come back to. I may not get paid with money. For now, I get paid with snuggles, giggles and tummy raspberries. And blessings galore.
And, yes dear (thank you), back rubs!