I’ve been feeling weary lately. Partly from having spent four days painting and stenciling my kitchen and adjoining room last week and partly from motherhood. I see a reflection of my own weariness in the face of most every mother I come in contact with. Not that they don’t love their children and enjoy mothering them, but it is tiring for all of us.

Yesterday at my mom’s house I lay in bed praying that the antsy little girl beside me and the screaming little boy in the attached room would fall asleep so that I could have a rest myself. They did, and as I lay quietly next to that little girl, I day dreamed of running away from them. I’m not afraid to admit that the thought crosses my mind from time to time because I know I never would, and I know that I am not alone in such thoughts.

I thought about jumping into my car and driving far far away, to a beach near crisp clear water, surrounded by trees, where I could embrace peace and quiet and perhaps an extra portion of happiness. I dreamed of lying on said beach in complete silence with no one demanding my attention. And even in this dream, my heart ached.

The thing is, I can’t live without them. They are embedded so thoroughly into my heart that in such a scenario there would be no peace to be found, no happiness to clasp onto. They need me and I need them too. They keep me going on the bad days, force me to get out of bed and enter into the world of the living. My  children help me to live life more fully. Yes, I am bone weary at times, but my interaction with them, the process of giving love and being loved in return, is nourishing to my soul.  I am weary but I am thankful.

and perhaps one quiet day at the beach is not too much to ask for 🙂

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