I've been a mama now for 10 1/2 years...expecting our sixth little Farm Fresh Blessing. I should be used it by now...and yet sometimes I'm afraid.
I'm afraid I'll never have a house clean for longer than twenty minutes.
I'm afraid things will always move around seemingly of their own accord. I'll forever be finding hairbrushes on the floor and never knowing what happened to my orange handled scissors and my flour sifters will always be taken out to the sandbox.
I'll always wake up to the sound of people fighting.
I'll never go a day without someone crying.
Mopping will only happen because someone spilled something.
Someone will always be touching/pushing on/grabbing at/pulling on/poking at/sitting on/kicking (from the inside) me.
I'll never again have an uninterrupted thought.
I will be repeating myself ad nauseum for the rest of my life. I will be repeating myself ad nauseum for the rest of my life. ISAID, I will be repeating myself ad nauseum for the rest of my life.
I will constantly have to think about what we need when we leave the house; will this outing coincide with a hunger time, do I need snacks, do I have extra bundies/diapers/outfits/wipes, does everyone have shoes, does everyone have a coat, do we need waters? Et cetera, et cetera.
Someone will always be peeking in on me in the shower.
Someone will always be bluntly commenting about my body.
I will forever feel crowded.
I'll have to listen to other people screaming for the rest of my life.
I will always be stepping over small socks strewn in a swath of other disembodied and discarded clothing, toys and sundry other household items.
I will never be able to do just ONE load of laundry.
People will be making their birthday wish lists nine months in advance and talking about them in great detail every single day... forever.
No one will ever again say to me "I wuv you so mutz, Mama."
I will never ever be woken up at the crack of dawn by someone asking permission to open my curtains, "betuz I just wanted to share the sunrise wif you, Mama."
No one will ever again fold their long limbs into my lap saying, "I just need a snuggle."
I won't have anyone to rock and breathe.
No one will ever again come banging into the house leaving the door ajar smelling of fresh air and little boy.
bodies to clothe in handmade creations.