kiwords

I woke up this morning miserable. Not just morning cranky, that’s a given. No, this morning I was truly unhappy. I hadn’t slept enough. The night had started with hours of nameless anxiety, staring at the ceiling in the dark. Remembering things that make me sad, that I haven’t bothered with in a long time. I don’t know why. Then the morning came too early, with Raphael climbing out of bed before the sun to wake his brothers.
They were tired, I was tired.
It was not a good morning.
I gritted my teeth through breakfast. I carried the boys’ school books to the table like they weighed a thousand pounds. I was quiet, and slow to respond when the kids talked to me. I just wanted to get through the day, and keep all this rottenness away from them.
But I snapped at them. And I sighed at things I should have laughed at.
This served to ratchet up the tension that extra half turn.
Not a good day.
Let me say that I’m not experiencing a crisis here. I have no good reason to feel bad. I just woke up leaden and sad and that’s how it was. I didn’t want to do dishes, I didn’t want to change diapers, and I didn’t want to correct math papers. I didn’t want to do anything, except maybe go back to bed.
We all survived the day and looking back on it, one moment stands out. We were settled in at the table, doing school. It’s our first day back from Christmas break, and so it took a while to get everyone going. But Tre was toiling away over cursive practice, Max was scowlingly laboring over his math workbook, and Raphael was contentedly making a zillion green carrots out of play-dough. I sat in the midst and just watched them all in silence. They are so beautiful sometimes they take my breath away. Max finished his last page for the day and leaned against me with a sigh. I put an arm around him and just drank it all in.
Some days I love almost every bit of mothering. I love the songs and the chores and the toys I pick up a zillion times a day. I enjoy cutting their toast just the right way and knowing from the look on their faces if they will eat one or two pieces. Some days it’s all a joy.
But then some days I don’t like any of it. Some days the only thing I like about motherhood is my boys.
But that’s enough.