laura hough smith

Motherhood is tough.
It is wonderful and magical and the best thing ever, but it is not easy.
I sometimes talk with another mom-of-two in town, and we laugh because
we both feel like we slide into every appointment or meeting on two
wheels with our hair on fire. It’s sometimes hard to know what day it
is, and my ill-fitting clothes have spit up on them on most days.
Fatherhood is no better for Wesley. Mary Finley got sick this week.
After a doctor’s appointment, I brought her home, and she took a nap.
Wesley popped in for lunch a bit later and to drop off her
medications. By now, she’d woken up (because why should she sleep?) so
he held her while I ate lunch. He was mid-sentence in a loud and
vigorous debate on politics when my laugh stopped him. I told him it
was hard to take him seriously with spit up running down his shirt.
God bless him.
My favorite people these days are the people who remember what this is
like. The ones who remember that it’s not always hair bows and lace
and Play-Doh and Barbies. It is changing three diapers in a hour, up
at 11 p.m., 2 a.m. and 4 a.m. It is ear aches and teething, and it is
forgetting that the fussiness is caused by the teeth, which in turn
effects the ears. More and more I find myself drawn to people who
remember the insanity of these days and who laugh about these
struggles.
I’m especially keen to pay more attention now to single mothers and
mothers with lesser means. I try to remember that I struggle through
these days with a very helpful partner and means enough to provide the
basics and then some. Single mothers and mothers who do more with much
less are miracle workers and heroes. Really. I am mindful to keep them
in my prayers.
I also try to keep in mind, too, that these children were gifts to me, and it’s my job to love them fiercely and unconditionally — and gently. And what I try even harder to remember is to be kind. My sweet little girls don’t know if I had a
bad day and don’t care. They need the best I can give them, and they
do need me to be gentle, caring and kind even when I don’t want to be.
I also have to remember that all these long nights – I’m writing this
at 2:34 a.m. – seem to creep by when you’ve only had six hours sleep
in two days and both children have terrible colds, but in truth, they
pass in a blink of an eye. So, it’s important to savor each sweet
moment as much as you can. I know that.
Lollie’s new thing is to “read” to me at bed time, instead of allowing
me to read to her. I love to see her little arms hold a big girl book.
I am moved to close my eyes and thank God. And earlier tonight, Mary
Finley rolled over for the first time. I was standing there to see the
look of surprise on her face, and it was priceless.
I hope when my children are a little older and things have eased up
some, I’ll look with compassion on the harried, unkempt mom in the
grocery. Last week, a sweet older woman did that for me. We were in
line and Mary Finley had just begun to scream – it was time for a
bottle and a nap. The woman ahead of us came over and took a look Mary
Fin. She spoke to me like she’d known me her whole life, like she was
a nanny in our home. She was empathetic and knowing and kind.
And it’s just my hope that I can be that compassionate to other
mothers and even to everyone with whom I cross paths. Forgive me for
sounding like Pollyanna, but I truly hope we all can show that toward
one another more — us mothers, fathers and Greenvillians alike.

© Laura Hough Smith and laurahoughsmith, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Laura Hough Smith and laurahoughsmith with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.