‘Twas the end of Mother’s Day, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring except for the mom.
The husband had gone to work far away, and the children were off for their Monday school day.
Left was the mom picking up after the celebrations and starting the chores that her special treatment prevented.
A new week had begun, back to the same old grind, working, cleaning, and cooking was on her mind.
Good intentions are set for mothers each year, but after that special Sunday, the intentions often disappear.
Mom is washing the dishes from the meal made just for her. The laundry that was started was found rotting in the washer.
I’ve been the default parent for so long that now my husband is met with, “You’re doing it wrong.”
May resumes with recitals, concerts, end-of-year madness, teacher presentations, camp signups, tournaments, practices—you name it, it’s here!
I get breaks, I do, but the moment I return home, I’m met at the door like a swarm.
I tell my children, “You are strong and capable. Mommy taught you well, and you can do it yourself.” What fun is that—when you can whine and fight, and even though I know it’s wrong, I’m not sure how to do it right.
The days are hard, and the years are short. What seems like big problems at the moment often pass faster than imagined.
I wouldn’t trade motherhood for the world. My heart has grown the size of three children.
But I wonder, oh I wonder – is there any way that the spirit of Mother’s Day could linger a little more throughout the year?
