Just A Few Of The Things That Mothers Do

In case you need a reminder.

I had a nightmare that woke me and I rose to make my coffee. Mothers begin.

I packed lunches, put dry cereal in bowls and helped look for and talk through the debacle of a missing social studies notebook. Mothers listen.

I tiptoed so as to not wake up my husband because he had a really tiring day yesterday. Mothers understand. 

I drove everyone to school and forced myself to go to the grocery store. Mothers persevere.



I had lunch with a friend and worked for several hours. Mothers juggle.

I cleaned out a closet, a corner cupboard and kitchen cabinets. Mothers toss.

I had a sitter take my littlest to the park, and I worked some more. Mothers continue.

I made dinner and we ate nearly all together. Mothers cook. 

Courtesy of Adrian H. Wood
Courtesy of Adrian H. Wood

I asked my husband to pick up our son and a friend from soccer practice. Mothers plan.

I watched my daughter give her all in karate class. Mothers cheer.

I made people take showers and put their dirty clothes in laundry baskets. Mothers teach.

I watched the news with my significant other and we talked about guns. Mothers connect.

Courtesy of Adrian H. Wood
Courtesy of Adrian H. Wood

I ignored plates and dishes and leftover chicken divan so I could get someone in their footy pajamas. Mothers prioritize.

I heard about the missing social studies notebook, and how it had been found on a table at school. Mothers smile.

I snuggled up to my precious son who shall be four next month, and in that moment, autism didn't seem so scary. Mothers learn.

I lay beside him as he fell asleep and thought about the day and the gift of time. Mothers slow.

I wonder what will happen tomorrow as a million things rush my mind. Mothers worry.

Courtesy of Adrian H. Wood
Courtesy of Adrian H. Wood

I grow hot beside the little boy dressed in fleece and still, I remain. Mothers know.

I never did get a shower or put real clothes on. Mothers sacrifice.

I will miss my birds when they fly the nest though I wonder if Amos will ever fly away. Mothers hope.

I adore motherhood and all that comes with it even when I forget to remember. Mothers love.

This story originally appeared on Adrian H. Wood's Facebook page. Wood is a rural Eastern N.C. mother of four, one with extra special needs. Past preschool teacher, nanny, children's ski instructor, early interventionist, college professor, early childhood researcher, wife and full-time mama. In writing after a twenty year hiatus, she offers personal glimpses where satire meets truth, faith meets irony, despair meets joy and this educated debutante escapes the laundry and finds true meaning in graceful transparency. You can follow her at her blog and on Facebook



More From A Plus

GET SOME POSITIVITY IN YOUR INBOX

Subscribe to our newsletter and get the latest news and exclusive updates.