Most Days

Most days, my kids drive me insane.

They’re demanding.  They want every single speck of my attention.  They want toys.  They even have the nerve to want food – a lot.

Most days, I am tired.  I have spent all day trying to balance on a seesaw with 2 rambunctious kids of differing ages with different needs and wants.  Every now and then I try to do something for myself, like go to the bathroom.  This happens approximately once every 3 days and my trips, like those of a prisoner, are invariably accompanied by a guard in the form of some small person, usually Pudding, who blasts open the door like Terminator and giggles at the sight of me perched on the toilet.

Most nights do not consist of blissful uninterrupted sleep.  Pudding wakes up looking for me, and he still wants milk, and sometimes I hold out, and sometimes when I am really exhausted I just let him have it so we can all go back to sleep.  Even Punksin wakes up every now and then, last night because she was sick, some nights because she wants company. All the books say this is BAD and I don’t give a rat’s ass because I know this will come to an end one day and she will not need me in the night anymore.  There’s nothing wrong with a 5-year old wanting reassurance, I say.  So most days, I do that thing.  I sit with her.  I pat her until she falls back asleep.  I even lie with her sometimes, snuggled up in her bed with her, amazed that her warm snug little body isn’t so little anymore, that she is becoming tall and lithe and leggy already at 5.

Most days, I don’t put on makeup or get my hair fixed beyond a messy ponytail, which may account for why Punksin found it so hard to comprehend when she heard her father retelling the story of our meeting and describing me as “that beautiful girl”.  This was astounding to her, that I once was beautiful, and to me, too, it often seems like a distant memory, those days when I wore high heels and pencil skirts and did wheeling and dealing and expensive lunches and dinners with bigwigs and traveled around the world for work.  Most days, I feel as far removed from that person as I am from some of the places I used to go.

But let me tell you, most days, despite the lack of makeup, and the baggy sweats that I have sworn to forgo once this winter is finally done, and the exhaustion, and the knot in my shoulders that makes every masseuse I visit exclaim in awe, and despite the fact that I still want something more than just mommyhood – on most days, I look at these two and I think, wow, I am so lucky.

I have 2 kids.

They are healthy.

They are fun.

They are crazy, and active, and mischievous.

They drive me crazy but on most days I try to remember that that is a good thing.  That I am lucky.  Because truth be told, I love these kids more than life.

Every day.

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