One of Those Days…

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Today is one of those days. I love being able to stay home with my kids. But sometimes I forget that. Today it’s a Mommy-centric universe. Today I am the sun and by the warmth of my face are all my little planets fed. Today they need.

And sometimes I cry internally, “I’ve given you my body, my beauty and my youth! What more do you want?!” I’m an artist, damnit! I need quiet! I need solitude! I should be creating! I should be bringing more beauty into this world!

I should be sitting in a coffee shop with a frothy something, unworried about the amount of caffeine I’m drinking and its requisite effects on the breastfed. I should be dressed in a cute hipster outfit with my artist purse big enough only for a sketchbook and my wallet. I should be painting! I should be writing the next great work of juvenile fiction!

Instead, I am drinking from the water bottle that has been my best friend since I first got pregnant six years ago. I’m dragging around a bag that can’t fit a sketchbook because of all the other things I need in case of a baby poop-ocalypse. And I’m barely suppressing the urge to tell the chipper checkout girl who had the gall to ask me how my day was, “I’m an artist! And I wouldn’t be wearing this except for that nothing else fits me yet!” I am up to my elbows in mundane.

So, welcome to one of my most frequent dilemmas. For isn’t what I do as a mother one of the most creative things I can do? Can I bring more beauty into this world alone rather than arming three whole other persons and let them loose beside me? And could I, for even a moment, pretend that I would be this efficient, thoughtful, or ambitious if not for what motherhood has given me?

The answers to all these questions are as clear one moment as they are foggy in the next. And mostly, in those foggy moments, I’m operating on faith. “Children are a heritage from the Lord, offspring a reward from him… Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them.” (Psalm127:3, 5) I’m not sure what would actually be my metaphorical quiver. But I can testify to the fact that my car is full. The laundry basket is full. The dishwasher is full. My hands are full. And my heart is full. And I move forward in faith that my essence will not be buried under diapers, my purpose lost in the legos, or my creativity wasted on meal planning. Lord, thank you for this heritage today.

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