There are times throughout the days where I find my feet dragging and my head cloudy. I heard it best described by Ann Voskamp as being "mother-tired". So often I am mother-tired. When the dishes are constant and the laundry is on the bed, clean but never folded, the dogs need walking and my girl's imagination needs me to play with her. The groceries need putting away, dinner needs preparation, walks need to be taken, housework glares at me.
And yet.
I feel such a tenderness for these things. For her bath toys stacked up in the bathtub, for the silverware thrown into the drawer because she was helping daddy, for her shoes to be strewn about the house. Even for my laundry. A perfect mix of his, hers and mine.
I am so grateful that I was chosen to be her mother.
I am her beacon, I am her safe place.
It takes my breath away.
Each morning I wake up excited, yes excited (no matter how early it is), to see her. I can't wait to hear her words and to marvel at her imagination.
Sometimes she will grab my face and stare into my eyes and kiss me. Even thinking about that makes my heart tremble a bit.
My entire life I wanted to be a mother and I didn't think I would be able to. I don't know why I thought that, but I did.
And now. Now I am living out my deepest desire and my life feels like one giant prize.
The wonder of motherhood covers all of the struggles.
The absolute pure joy I feel when being with her makes the mundane daily tasks seem okay.
She is my favorite and I am so incredibly in awe that I was chosen to be her mother.