I stand in awe at the women who've gone before me, of the mothers who've sacrificed selflessly and cheerfully while raising up children who turn out to be successful, righteous adults.
How did they do it?
Did they cry all the tears that I cry when I can't get my little ones to stay in bed at night? Did they cheerfully wipe away the huge puddle of milk, splattered across the entire kitchen floor for the third time that day or did they do that through their tears too, like I do?
Did they force themselves off the couch after a long day of fighting nausea to make dinner for children who whine that they are hungry all day but then refuse to even taste the meal prepared?
Did they do all that with a smile?
Because I am miserably failing at the whole cheerful and smiling part of motherhood.
Yes, failing miserably.
To the point where, when I smile or laugh at something, my kids look alarmed and ask if I'm in a good mood.
Isn't that sad?
I really don't know how to do all of this cheerfully on a regular basis.
Life is a lot harder than I was ever led to believe it was. I think I'm really struggling with the reality of that.
Anyway, those mothers who seem to do all that is required of them cheerfully, I bow down to you.