Mother's Day

Yesterday morning I was the first one awake—as I almost always am, on Sundays—so I went into my bathroom to remove my nail polish. I figured I could probably have a long, hot shower and spend a bit more time on myself than I do most mornings. When I got out of the shower I could hear quite a bit of activity, and smell something good coming from the kitchen. I had time to lotion up, get dressed, dry my hair, and repaint my nails (fingers and toes) before breakfast was ready, but this was the Thanksgiving feast of breakfasts—hash browns, vegetarian sausage patties, scrambled eggs, fresh strawberries, and pancakes. Scrumptious, and I didn't have to lift a finger in preparation or clean-up.

After church we went to both grandmothers' homes. We don't usually do that, makes for a pretty full day, but we did yesterday. Drove an hour, spent a bit longer than an hour at B's mom's house, and then drove another hour to my mom's. Had take-out Thai food with my mom and dad and my sister's family. (The Thai food was my suggestion, I'm obsessed.) Left my mom's at about 8:30 and I was fast asleep an hour into the drive, left poor B to keep himself awake and get all of us home safely.

Just now I googled "tropical beach vacation." There are some insanely lovely pictures of tropical beaches, you know that? And I don't know if I'll ever get to visit a single one. When I'm exhausted and the alarm goes off and I want to keep sleeping, I can't. My house never stays tidy or clean for long, and whenever we get a paycheck it is spent almost immediately on such boring things as food and electricity. I do have a bucket list of things I want to do, places I want to see, and I know I almost certainly never will. The timeline of my life is not exactly my own, because I have woven eight other timelines into it.

What's my trade off? I get to hear Macklin tell me every day he has "infinity crushes" on me. (He just said this five minutes ago when he took a break from our science movie to hug me.) I get to have Kyrie rest her little head on my shoulder and tell me she always wants to be with me wherever I am. I get a dozen wet kisses a day from Ethan, and him telling me, "Mom, you're so pretty." I get to have Jackson beam like he just won the World Series when I'm proud of him for his dedication in chores or schoolwork. He really is so focused, I can't wait to see what he does with that when he's a man. I get a lovely hand-made necklace from Libby, along with a card that says, "You are Amazing and selfless, and I don't tell you enough but I love you." I get a handwritten card from Christian addressed "my dear mother" (quite an endearment from a reserved 15YO boy) that says, "Thank you for everything you do, from the 'love you's before I leave for school to giving me a great home education." And from Emma, who isn't even faintly embarrassed to hug, kiss, and hold hands with her mom in front of her school friends, I get to be the subject of a writing assignment about "My Hero."

There are days that I want to escape to that tropical island. There are times when I'm armpit-deep in Legos and I wish I had a tidy, quiet house. But there is nothing more precious to me than being a part of this—all of this—the chaos, the smiles, the occasional tears, the joy of discovery, the frustration of correction. It is my greatest honor and delight to be the mother to these seven children. My life with them gives me more contentment and fulfillment than any number of tropical vacations or tidy houses.

Some people are brilliant mathematicians or scientists or talented musicians. Some are able to truly make a difference in the world in their careers. For some people, I really think their purpose in life is evident more in public than in private—they are meant to enrich the whole world.

But though it may be more visible, their purpose is no more important than mine. I am mother to these seven lovely, wonderful children. To them I am, for a short little while, everything. I carry them on my shoulders and try to help them become everything they can. I pour my life, drop by drop, into them; and in doing so, I find my own cup full to overflowing. Everything they do fills me with wonder and pride. It is an honor to be their mother.