So, yeah, I was all excited for school to start so we could get back into more of a routine and now . . . well, it’s sort of quiet. Baby D and I haven’t been sure what to do with ourselves. We watched a movie. We had a snack. We prayed for Colin to have a good day at school. Now here I am at the computer with no one asking me if I’m done yet. Grandma has not called Colin too early on the phone to tell him a joke. All of the Goldfish crackers are still in the box on the shelf — not strewn about the kitchen as if someone were eating them while looking for a bowl.
What is this weird job of motherhood? Our number one function is to protect our children and at the same time create independent adults. If we are successful, we work ourselves out of a job. How horrible to be standing in the rain trying not to cry because your fourth grader decided to take the bus to school this year and does not want to be dropped off his first day. The lump in my throat was a mixture of worry and sorrow and regret . . . and the greatest, greatest pride.
If we knew how emotionally exhausting motherhood would be, would any of us take it on? Once we have become mothers, would any of us give it up?