He has just started self feeding. Mashed potatoes were on tonight's menu and without hesitation he inhaled them. He left evidence of potatoes all over is face, hair, clothes, and that dang hard to clean high chair. I fight this high chair every night to be clean. I lose the battle often because of the too many nook and crannies and the too self to clean for another messy meal.
So I sent us all outside, high chair as the main event, and washed the many meal fed high chair in the front yard.
As cars passed by, I couldn't imagine their thoughts of the spectacle they were viewing. A swimsuited toddler running around with a hose singing the same verse from the little mermaid, a sweet baby in a walked on the side walk eating leaves from a bush, and a tired frazzled half soaked momma scrubbing a high chair.
Maybe the young teenagers received their monthly dose of birth control. Maybe a soon to be momma promised she'd never do that! Maybe I gave a momma of littles a brilliant idea or a veteran momma tipped her hat off to me.
As I dragged us all back inside and placed the shiny high chair back into place, I stared out of kitchen window and laughed. What kind of mother do my neighbors think I am? What do they see? What the heck do they hear?
Do they see me pause for a few moments when I take put the trash? Can they tell I'm absorbing those few moments as "me" time?
Do they hear the chaos of mornings when the rush of the needs for chocolate milk, breakfast, and nursing hit the table at once?
Do they see all my awesome dance moves through Rylee's window? They must be jealous of how I dip my sweet daughter and make her giggle.
Do they hear the songs of a lullabye at midnight and see the figure eight sway of my hips, as I soothe our youngest back to sleep? Maybe the 19th round of hush little baby soothes them into dreamland.
Maybe they catch a glimpse of my frustration when its taking 19 minutes to gather two littles and there things for a trip to publix.
Do they feel the mommy guilty that floods through my heart every night? The doubt that fills my head and my promises to make the next day better?
Do they hear the hilarious stories my daughter shares with me on walks? Do they mind she always picks a yellow flower from the same yard, walks along decorative bricks as a balance beam, and screams lousy when she sees the yard of animal statues?
Do they hear my prayers? They must because they are loud and hard. Maybe they pray also for a long nap time.
Do they see my scramble for kept up laundry, cleaned dishes, and meals made?
Do they hear the laughter of a sweet boy and his silly faced sister?
Do they feel the warmth of tears that string down my face what I'm having one of "those" days?
Do they smell the weekly baked goods my daughter and I bake? Maybe they hear the giggles as we lick the bowl.
But I hope they feel the love I have for my family. I hope they hear the laughter and the I love you's. I hope they think I'm a mother who tries her best and forgives when failure hits my front porch. I hope they see how deep my love runs but understands when my patience aren't always full.
I hope we all look to our neighbor mommas with a kind heart. Being a mother has been my grandest yet toughest job and yet there is nothing better then a smile from the car passing by. Reminding me its OK. Hard days will be smothered by sweeter memories and when that high chair is covered in another round of mashed foods from a oh so cheerful baby.
