I am still me in there. Somewhere. Somewhere underneath the angry mom voice, the snot cleaning, the butt wiping, the refereeing, the breast feeding, the toddler feeding (or failure of)... And it is in these moments of all three children crying at me for whatever reason, that I need to stop. To slow down the chaos in my head that all of them needing something from me at the exact same time creates. When I am overrun by the feeling of becoming the cranky, frumpy, yelling, angry mom, I need to stop. And remember that I am still me.
I adore these boys. I adore that I get to hang out with them all day, I would be beyond jealous if anyone else got to. I adore and admire how Will is the biggest sweetheart I have ever met, and despite how emotional he can be, I know he gets that from me, because he comes and strokes my face softly when I am sad and emotional. I adore how Sam is still such a squishy little cuddler, my own personal teddy bear. And I adore how Ben gazes at me while he nurses and if I look back he loses focus on the task at hand and just smiles and giggles at me. Things take much longer to accomplish but goodness I wouldn't have it any other way. I have time.
I have become a mother, yes, right down to the deepest and darkest parts of my soul. And I so love it, and I wouldn't change it for the world. But I have to remind myself that I am still me in there. I still have my own personality. I can still be funny and silly and just as goofy as these hilarious boys of mine. I do not just need to only be stressed and worried and frazzled about my kids all the time, about getting things done, about schedules and eating and sleeping and cleaning. I am allowed to have other thoughts creep into my mind. I am still allowed to have my own interests that don't have to revolve around what's the next activity to do to keep my children busy.
And if some days the tv is on more than it should be, if Cinderella runs through a second time (goodness they love Cinderella), so I have a bit more opportunity to do something I want to do, to sit, to read, to journal, to drink my coffee while it's still hot... That's ok. And I don't need to beat myself up or wallow in guilt over that.
Because I'm allowed to still be me.
