Motherhood Smotherhood

Family

Motherhood Smotherhood

 I was in a business meeting sitting on the family room floor with a baby in my lap scaling my legs and a toddler wrapping every arm and leg around me from behind. I couldn’t take notes. I kept losing my train of thought. I was being smothered. Literally.

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That’s when one of the business associates looked at me (she was sitting comfortably in a big leather chair) and said ‘motherhood is smothering’. OMG. Those were the most perfect words at the most perfect time.

Motherhood is Smotherhood.

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How many times have I woken up sandwiched between two kids and a cat. Dr hubs doesn’t get that kind of ‘attention’ when he’s sleeping. Or when I’m trying desperately to get dressed and look semi-put-together. That’s when everyone needs something. Diaper. Potty. Snack. Work socks. Missing favorite toy. I’m often caught walking through the house in just my bra and undies just to get them all taken care of, off my back and out from under my feet.

 

Meals are horrible. By the time I get everyone’s plates/cups/drinks/ketchup/bibs/second fork to the table I sit to eat and the kids are done. Then they crawl on me and sit on me and hang on me. Are they wanting me to starve and perish?

 

I feel like a human jungle gym. A tree that they insist on climbing. Like I’m stuck in the ring with mini WWF wrestlers. Let me remind you I just have girls right now. Will it be worse with boys?!

 

Some days I’m okay with the smothering love and attention. Like on Mother’s Day. But sometimes I just need a break. A mommy timeout. A chance to catch my breathe from Smotherhood.

 

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