'Happy St. Mother's Day'

I was in a hurry. I had run upstairs to change my clothes for a late afternoon meeting when I heard two-year-old Mike waking up from his nap. I went into his room, picked him up from his crib and sat down to get some hugs and loves.
This scene only lasted a few seconds because we both had things to do. I had my meeting to get to, and Mike heard the music of his favorite cartoon show coming from the downstairs television. As he ran off in one direction I was about to turn and run off in the other, but I didn't. I stood at the top of the stairs. Watching a chubby little boy wearing rubber pants ballooning around his legs holding onto the banister with both hands as he took one step at a time seemed at that moment like the most important thing in the world.
Unfortunately, my thinking doesn't always go that way. There are many days when watching my children becomes the least important thing. Getting the laundry done and the kitchen cleaned comes before them.
It shouldn't be that way, but sometimes it's hard for the cup of motherly love to overflow when the house is overflowing with messes.
Even when I can't see my children through the sea of debris, I can always hear them. I can't help but listen to them - and isn't listening one of the elements necessary to successful parenting?
Of course, I'm not sure that listening to Patrick tell Colleen's friend that Colleen can't come to the phone because she's outside gazing at the stars when she's standing right next to him grabbing the phone and screaming that he's a jerk is the kind of listening that the child psychologists are referring to.
I know that I should listen to what my children are saying, and I should be watching them and enjoying them and reading to them and having them read to me and playing Old Maid and Candy Land and tossing balls with them.
I want to do all those things. I want to be the devoted mother- but jeepers creepers, if I expend all my energies on listening and watching and doing for my children, I wouldn't have time to do anything for myself.
What would happen to my dreams? They didn't go out the window when I gave birth. I want to be a mother, but I also want to continue being a person - maybe even a tap dancer or a torch singer.
No one said being a mother would be easy. The only advice I received beforehand was to be sure to get a husband first. What someone should have said was that once you have the children it's OK - even important - to develop and explore non-mothering skills. They should have added that no matter what the circumstances, you'll end up feeling guilty.
That's not necessarily fair, but it's true. You could be in the midst of negotiating world peace agreements when hovering ominously in the background would be your conscience tinged with guilt because your daughter went off to school needing a shampoo or your son had outgrown all his pants.
The trade-offs are tough in this job. I love observing the creative imagination of my two-year-old, but I'd also love to be able to leave a lipstick on the kitchen counter and not have it used as a
magic marker on the living room couch.
I treasure the chance to sit in a rocking chair cuddling a little baby, but I also treasure a good night's sleep.
I realize the importance of helping a seventh grader figure out the difference between subordinate and independent clauses, but sometimes I'd rather use my analytical skills on a bridge game.
Motherhood seems to be a juggling act. When all the balls are smoothly rotating from air to hands and back again, it is life's most joyous and fulfilling experience.
But when the balls fall, or too many balls get into the act, it's a good time to watch a chubby little toddler go down the stairs.
To all mothers trying to juggle through life, I join with your children in wishing you what we at our house call "Happy St.Mother's Day."
May 8, 1985