This mama's heart.

Motherhood is wonderful but also it is hard. It is a marathon; with fits and spurts of sprinting. Times where you are being pulled in four different directions all of which need your attention. Three minutes ago I was doing dishes; then I stopped; they still aren't done. But I need to be for today. Sometimes I have to quit before the marathon is over so that I can still run tomorrow.


Moments like now, I feel overwhelmed when I think of all I must do every day to keep it going. Tears flow down my cheeks as I type. Often I feel like a circus plate spinner. Racing between plates; panting as I precisely spin each plate. Careful to not be careless with the one on the end, lest it fall and crash to the ground.

Everybody needs me, and they need me right now dammit! Towards the end of the day and at the three hundred and seventy fourth request my skin crawls. I need quiet; a moment of respite. I feel heavy with responsibility. The mental check off list for the day meanders through my mind, did I: give Owen his medicine, Lily's skin treatment, Luke's allergy pills, Owen and Luke's homework, Jack's deep compression massage along his whole body--every four hours, reading to Lily, Owen and Luke's independent reading, checking Owen and Luke's blood sugars, Jack's vitamin regimen--three times per day? Not to even mention the daily things; doctors appointments, sending red and green marshmallows with this child, being the library buddy with that child. Scheduling the hundredth appointment for Jack with this 'ology' or that 'ology'.


There are moments where I just want to throw that friggin list out the window. Say I'm done. That I can't take it anymore and we will just have to let those damn plates fall. But. I am me and that isn't an option. I am the mama. The only person on this planet who even knows what is on the list, let alone do it.

The stakes are high. If I fail and let those plates spin off it will matter.

Times like this when I feel less than capable to the task I think of where I have been. What I have accomplished. That I did survive. I did make a difference; me. Proof is in the pudding, baby. Owen is eating; by his mouth no less. I worked blood, sweat and tears for three and a half years to make that happen. Me; I did that.


I took him to feeding therapy four times per week over an hours drive each direction for two years. I rubbed his gums every three hours for one and half years. I brushed his entire body with a 'desensitizing comb' every three hours for a year. I cleaned up food that he would 'chew chew chew' then spit out onto the floor because he was afraid to swallow it. . .twenty times a day for two and half years.

Then, he ate; it was over. I DID THAT. Without murdering anybody. Crying many many tears of frustration, yes. BUT. . .; I did it and. . .it meant something.


Times like this where my heart is heavy and I don't want to do all that I am called to do; I remember. I can do this. I can do hard things. I can make a difference for Jack. I can through my efforts. Me; alone. One day at a time I will do all that is within my powers. They are my children. Given to me, and I know me; this mama will move heaven and earth for her children.

I have my mama's lists; you have yours, we can and will do it. One day at a time, together, we will all be; mothers.