Being Mother

May 9, 2010

by Erin Kilmer

I am a mother.

My floor is littered with toys and socks and books and a pink blow-up dolphin.

My kitchen sink is full of dishes to be washed and my laundry room is overflowing with dirty underwear.

My yard needs mowed and the flowerbed is all weeds.

I am a mother.

I cannot do it all.

I am imperfect and tired and busy.

I am slowly learning grace.

I am a mother.

My sons grow taller every day– startling me with height.

They remind me a little too much of myself, of my husband.

They do not need clean underwear as much as they need me, present.

I am a mother.

My daughter grows and watches me.

I wonder what she will become, watching me.

She does not need an immaculate playroom as much as she needs me, present.

I am a mother.

So often I am caught up in my world, my pleasure, my business.

So often I am not the mother they should have.

So often I do only the bare minimum required to get by.

I am a mother.

I want to be so much more than just the one who gave them birth.

I want to be the one who daily nurtures, brings life.

I want to be the one creating warmth and joy and memories.

I am a mother.

They are my children, loving unconditionally.

I am the unworthy recipient of hugs from grimy hands, expressions of love in glue and construction paper.

Oh Lord, make me the mother they deserve.