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Just A Mom

I switch off the lights and change from my yoga pants to my pajamas.
As I crawl into bed, I hear my husband's heavy breath from the sleep he somehow always finds way before I do.
I close my eyes and try to find rest, but my head literally feels like its buzzing.
It's a hive of to-dos, and worries, and Did-I-Pay-That type questions pinging off the walls of my skull.

Someone once told me that it was annoying how moms acted like their job was so hard. They just wanted to complain.
It's just being a mom.

That thought pops into my mind as I climb out of bed to double check that the doors are locked and that the kids are ok.

I guess I do complain a lot. There are surely people who have harder jobs than I do and they definitely don't get to do it from the comfort of stretchy pants and their own home. I guess I should spend more time being deeply grateful for the fact I get to work from home and spend so much time with my kids. I should be grateful I get to go to the gym every day and that my schedule is largely my own to set.

But I would be lying if I said I felt anything resembling gratitude on days like today. Days where I clean up the third potty training mess of the day, which interrupted the dishes I was doing because of the curdled milk sippy-cup I found between the couch cushions, hidden under the pile of laundry that I put off so I could actually do my paying job, and damn it, its 2:30 and I forgot to put dinner in the crockpot so now I need to come up with plan b, and holy crap where is the baby? Did I leave the bathroom door open? Of course, he threw his sister's toothbrush in the toilet. Speaking of sister, it's time to go grab her off the bus. Where the hell are everyone's pants and shoes?

What was I saying?

Oh ya...gratitude and complaining too much.
It's hard to find gratitude on the days where my head is left buzzing.

I crawl back into bed and try again to summon sleep.

The buzzing has quieted some at this point, but I roll over and make one last to-do list on my phone, just in case I forget by the morning that we need milk, and to pay the trash bill, and...and...damn it I already forgot the other thing.

"Moms just want to complain. Women have been doing it since the beginning of time."

Just a mom.

That's like looking at a tree and saying it's just a worthless tree.
It's not acknowledging that the tree is steadfast with deep roots.
It gives you air to breathe, fruit to eat, limbs for shelter, and shade for rest.
But even the mighty tree loses its leaves and breaks down every fall. Even a tree has to shed the weight of its purpose to continue to grow strong.

Maybe, just maybe, a complaining mom is trying to shed the weight of what is breaking her down. Maybe she's looking for confirmation she isn't alone. Maybe these conversations are the closest we get to shedding our leaves and trying to come back fresh again.

My eyes finally fall shut, and the buzzing has given way to a final thought.

I may complain.
I may fall short of gratitude.
But, I'm happy to be just a mom.

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