Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Ready or not

If mothers of an older and wiser brand read this, please be kind to my trembling soul.  A knowing smile will suffice, but today I sit here and at last, I’ve captured a few moments of breath and an entire lunch, because mothers need to eat too.

I’ve entered a new awareness and I must admit, it feels heavy.

As in, on several occasions I could be found blankly staring out the window, my mind escaping to a very far away and extremely wonderful place, a land that existed before now.

You see, my son just turned three and the little girl is a professional crawler with a keen sense for all of her brother’s most prized possessions, a baby Godzilla who seeks to destroy all train tracks and anything in her reach.  And age three has brought this perspective of all toys are my toys and you get none.  Then baby thinks, oh look at how fast I can get to all these fun things.  Do you see where I’m going?

And thirty minutes into the day, there I was, window staring and knowing, it was a new day. Time to embrace my most unwelcome role, the referee.

I’m positive it’s my new least favorite.

All the sweetness that abounds in him seems to vanish and her most passionate cries of injustice, oh, Harper the fierce.  Over and over and over again.  And that’s when you find me starring out the window, thinking about things like preschool, nay, boarding school.  Sounds divine.

And then my mom’s voice pops into my head with something about evidence of the sinful nature of man displayed in children and another voice muttering something along the lines of, one day you’ll miss this. I roll my eyes, literally and inside my head, so the voices can see too, and think that I probably won’t miss this exact part, thank you very much.  But, I can’t listen to these voices for long, because well, someone just found a train track and is destroying it, piece by piece.  Cue unhappy three year old.

I send my husband a text, is this my new forever, referee for life? and he responds with a stupid smiley face, because he probably doesn’t want to type,  yes, maybe.  Smart move.  BTW, I hate stupid smiley face texts.

I mean, it’s no wonder people seek out refuge in their vice of choice, lucky for you, mine brings me to the click-ety clack of computer keys, where I can write down a bunch of life and by the end, feel lighter and know that everything will be fine, probably.  Boiling water has just been poured into the French press and it is nap time, so, there’s the bright side.

I sit here and wonder what my mom felt like with five kids. five.  But lucky for her, I never started any sort of shenanigans with my siblings, so there’s that, for the record.  I can imagine a few of my best friends reading this and feeling validated in no longer wondering if their kid needs a sibling.

So, here I am, my resume just got longer and I get to admit once again, that I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing. 

Referee status, consider yourself acknowledged.

Olivia, lover of Jesus, wife, mom of two, artist, writer, coffee admirer, super fan of nap time, hater of stupid smiley face texts, window starer, and referee.

linking up with Just Write


  1. Interestingly enough I had to take the day off today and be a 'stay-at-home mom'. So we went to the park, had a picnic with Steve and played in the leaves. I found myself saying, "Oh how lucky these stay-at-home moms are!" Then Steve just gave me the look, and I realized I was high on fall air and a day at the park. It really is the hardest job ever (and I only have 1)! I get a small taste of it during my summers off. I've said many, many, many times that working makes me a better mother. AND when I say that, I'm saying 'living my calling' (teaching that is) makes me a better mother. I have the luxury of having Steve's mom watch Livi Grey during the day and coming home to a very happy girl because she's spent the day with her bff, her nanny. "My Nanny" she says 1,000 times a day. It's mothers like you, Katie Aagaard, (and all the other stay at home moms) that I admire.

  2. I have to agree that; this part you will not miss. Consider this your "knowing smile" which can shared between every mother who has ever felt that way.

  3. Thank you, again, for letting me know I'm not in this boat alone. I just wish my girls still took naps for me. They're both down to one a day (if Emma takes one at all), and naptime corresponds directly wih the time they get dropped off at the sitter's for me to go to work in the afternoon. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever not be tired again.

    I think I'll have a cup of coffee before I go back to packing!

  4. Dude. Totally.
    (and yes I just called you dude...I apologize and I'm not even deleting it...even if it's quite a lot like smiley face texts.)

    I eye roll over "you're going to miss this" too. I mean, yes, I'll miss chubby thighs and maybe even drool but not being a referee OR never sleeping.

    Peace to you (and your household)

  5. @Mrs. Gallagher Most days, it's a dream... but everything has rough moments for sure. I love that you said, high on fall air and a day at the park!


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