She just kept yelling for me.
With zero patience.
And no manners.
I was occupied.
I was peeing (sans in peace), and the demand for my presence just continued to ensue.
Because, her dear birther, her one and only, the bearer of the womb she would happily crawl back in if she could, didn’t jump when she said.
How dare I?
Take a minute for myself.
Really only about thirty seconds.
To release my bladder that she and her siblings wreaked havoc on with each pregnancy.
I love my kids.
I probably love them TOO much and because of that have developed the horribly non-beneficial habit of answering their every whim and whine and catering to their every need.
Don’t get me wrong, I respectfully (ahem, semi-loosely) require, promote and encourage manners AND patience, but I’d be lying to you if I said they don’t ever get what they want unless they exhibit either or both.
Sometimes I just don’t have the energy.
But you know what, same goes for them; sometimes they don’t either.
Sometimes they are so wrapped up in their day or a moment or activity or a person they are with, they are there less than five-star self.
And you know what? The same goes for me.
I’m not always the mom, wife or person I wanna be.
Sometimes I forget my patience and manners too.
And I’m not “grateful every day” like my shirt suggests.
Being a mama is hard.
But so is being a kid.
So we’ve got to go easy on ours,
and go easy on ourselves,
and remember that the energy and attention we are putting in now are going to pay off tenfold in the years to come.
One day we will pee in peace and our kids will get their own water from the fridge and pleasantly surprise us by dropping us a big, fat, gratitude-filled thank you — not just for the water, but for everything.
And, if we can believe it, it’ll be in that moment we’ll miss these toilet moments, mamas. (At least that’s what I’m telling myself. )