Happy New Year, friends. With the New Year always comes a slew of “New Year, New You” slogans and pitches from every imaginable source. I usually buy into this sort of thing, and hop on the healthy, get-fit-quick, “be your best you”, organize everything you own sinkhole. I’m not judging anyone who decides to use the New Year as a push in the right direction, believe me, I’ve been there many times before.
To be honest, I’ve been feeling a lot of internal pressure to get back to my “old self”. To be as thin as I used to be before I decided to have another baby. To be as productive as I was when I had two children, instead of three children. I’ve felt like I’m not good enough recently, like my house isn’t clean enough, and like I’m not doing enough. The reality is, right now I AM ENOUGH.
I’ve always rushed myself through each season of my life, forcing myself to be the best possible version of me that I can be. This year, I’ve decided to change my goals. I’ve decided to embrace my season and all of the perfectly imperfectness that comes along with being a mother of three small children.
What exactly does that mean? Well, for me, embracing my season of life means that I will not rush through my days, wishing I was not where I currently am. Wishing that I was 50 pounds lighter. Wishing that the mountain of laundry on the chair in my loft would disappear (well, maybe…), wishing that my children were older or that they wouldn’t make such a mess in every square inch of our home. Wishing for more sleep on sleepless nights spent mothering my boys. Wishing for something different. No, I want to savor each and every chaotic moment of my very messy life.
When I look back on my life I want to remember my baby as a baby. I want to memorize his sweet little baby scent, and embrace the feeling of his little body breathing as he lies on my chest as he slowly falls asleep. I want to soak in each gummy little smile, and sweet baby giggle that can make any uterus explode with pure joy! I want to enjoy each crazy moment of chaos as my older boys run up-and-down the stairs, playing silly pretend games. I want to know that I embraced these children with wide open arms, as melted ice cream streams down their little faces.
Later in life, when the quiet nights finally come, I know I’ll surely miss the chaos of this season of my life. I’ll know I was the best mama I could be to my babies, even if it means I wore my “fat pants” a little longer than I’d like to admit. I’ll know I was the best me I could possibly be during this season, all while rocking spit-up covered pajamas.