I Wasn't Born To Be A Mother



I wasn't born to do this.

It's been a few years now and I don't relish the chaos. I don't thrive in it.

The stains on their clothes still drive me nuts.

I clean two high chairs six times a day and I grumble through the entire process. 42 times a week and I'm not any closer to soaking this up.

I am not the kind of mom who sees messes and thinks memories. I wish the memes on the Internet would brainwash me, but so far... messes just mean more work.

I cry over spilled milk.

And I cry over pee on my minivan floor.

But I am the kinda mom who gets filled up.

By art that comes with paint on the couch. And babies using perfect chubby fingers to plop food in their mouths, and on my floors. And joyful singing, that also hurts my ears.

I'm mom enough to let them make the messes. I'm mom enough to sacrifice my desire for order and peace.

I wasn't born for this job, but I've grown into it.

And that doesn't make me any less of a mom than the ones in the memes.

The clutter will always wear on me and the shouting makes me cringe.

Embracing it hasn't come naturally.

But I laugh just as hard and I love just as fiercely, and that comes easy.

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© 2018 by Cheya Media