Just call me the zookeeper

This mama gig? Yeah, it's a tough job.


I woke up this morning to Bee laying in her bed yelling, "Mama! Can I get up now? Now, Mama? Now?" Like she does almost every single day.



Why Mama? Why not Daddy? He's a perfectly responsible, active parent, and often a better nurturer than I am. He's the parent *I* would yell for at 6:30 in the morning...and so that's what I did.



"Not it," I declared poking him in the side.



Lion, not to be outperformed by his big sister, threw up while Daddy changed his diaper. And because Lion is the world's sweetest baby boy, he promptly grinned his great big dimpley baby grin...with green bubbley snot oozing out of his face.



While throwing in my first load of laundry for the day, I couldn't help but dream of life in another place. Daddy came down to kiss me good-bye and I wanted to shudder. Not because of Daddy, of course, but because the day loomed so largely in front of me. Because I knew that Lion would be oozing green snot all day. Because I knew Bird *should* be going back to school today but was home sick with me. Because Bee would be asking for snacks and drinks all the live long day while Bird begged for "just one more show."



So as Daddy headed off to work, I did what any responsible stay-at-home-mama would do, I told him I wanted a new job. And I really meant it. Because this mama gig? It is tough. It's so hard. So demanding. So all consuming. Just plain exhausting.



Instead of job hunting, I picked up toys. Instead of writing my resume, I did more laundry than I can remember. Instead of filling out applications, I plodded through my Groundhog-esque Day of organizing classes at the Y, making lunches, snacks, and refilling drinks. And in the midst of the laundry, endless piles of toys, green noses, demands for drink, snack, and Playhouse Disney, Bee climbed into Lion's Pack n Play. I braced myself for roars of protest, but I heard the delighted giggles of my sweet baby boy followed by the joyful squeals of my loving three-year old.



And somehow the fog lifted. The laundry didn't go away. The toys still had not grown legs and crawled back to their appropriate bins. But in that m oment, I realized that this mama-gig really is just for a short time. Bird has a wonderful laugh, a happy-full-of-life kind of laugh. But it's not a baby giggle. All too quickly Lion will have a big boy laugh and not a baby boy giggle either. Soon Bee will be tall enough to reach the cabinet and empty out all the snacks. And Bird will want to spend time watching tv with someone other than her mama.



Tomorrow, I will do a better job. I will try to embrace the day. I will try to live in the moment and treasure my children. I will see the laundry and the toys, the snacks and the drinks, and my three little ones with new eyes. They really are, afterall, little for such a short time and little only once. All too soon I'll be missing this Mama gig and wishing for baby boy dimples and silly little girls.