Is this being a mom?

Is this being a mom of the really little ones?

Incessant diaper changes and clothes changes and mood changes and food changes? The indecipherable tears, whines, cries, and screams? The meal time, nap time, bath time, bed time guesses and routines and changes?

Is this being a mom of the really little ones?

The waking up, the changing, the dressing, the eating, the changing, the playing, the changing, the eating, the cleaning up, the new outfit, the changing, the sleeping, the waking up, the changing, the eating, the playing, the eating, the bathing, the changing, the bedtime outfit, the sleeping just to do it all over again tomorrow?

Is this being a mom of the really little ones?

The forgetting to read, the forgetting to play brain developing games, the forgetting to practice counting, the forgetting to learn letters and numbers and words and shapes and colors? The forgetting to do crafts and forgetting baby massages and exercises? The choosing not to do baby yoga and baby swimming and baby pilates and baby time at the library? The forgetting to change a diaper for four hours and then finding a giant poop in there instead? The trying, the wishing, the failing, the crying?

Is this being a mom of the really little ones?

The house that looks like a disaster no matter what time of day or year? The piles of dust, dirt, dog hair, carpet fibers, and leaves that all end up in the baby’s mouth? Finding just one sock of every pair in every area of the house? The mail, the dishes, the laundry ever piling higher and higher?

Is this being a mom of the really little ones?

The toy taking, the crying, the consoling, the distracting, the redirecting, the saving, the leaving, the watching, the waiting, the band-aids at the ready, the wanting to escape for just a moment?

Is this being a mom of the really little ones?

The to-do list for every room that never gets touched? The new stuff getting added to the bottom of the list every day? The only getting one thing done a week? The feeling like the dishes and the laundry and the playing and the picking up just aren’t enough to justify a to-done?

Is this being a mom of the really little ones?

The changing, the piling, the sorting, the washing, the drying, the folding, the sorting, the searching, the giving up, the putting away, the pulling outgrown stuff, the piling, the sorting, the folding, the storing, the finding of new outgrown stuff, the unstoring, the folding, the storing.

Is this being a mom of the really little ones?

The pulling all 36 foam letters and numbers off the shelf, the eating the books, the scattering all 50 blocks, the climbing up, the climbing down, the falling off, the screaming for no reason other than screaming, the learning to share, the learning to not freak out when another comes near the same toys, the sitting, the standing, the jumping, the running.

Is this being a mom of the really little ones?

The not talking, the stepping on everything, the same two syllables that are supposed to mean 15 different words depending on the time of day, area, context, people around, the phase of the moon and how many feet are on the ground. The chewing, eating, destroying of every toy that’s not solid wood or plastic?

Is this being a mom of the really little ones?

The smiles, the slobbery open mouth kisses, the laughs, the games only you and your baby know, the exploring, the learning, the playing, the walking, the first word, the first step, the joy, the excitement, the wonder, the imagination. The time you finally spend not thinking only about yourself and trying to figure out how to help your really little one navigate this big wide world.

This is being a mom of the really little ones.

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