While getting ready to leave the park, a young mom marched in with a double-jogging stroller. It was the kind of forceful push that showed that SHE needed to be there. The kids probably did too, but she REALLY needed it. I know that walk well.
As she neared us I realized that she was pregnant. I was struck with awe by how she had it so together that she was already using a double-stroller. And then she passed us. She looked to be about 6 months pregnant, and her child was about 18 months old. And inside the other side of the stroller was baby carrier. With an infant in it.
At first I was confused, but then I remembered hearing of a young mom in the neighborhood who had a set of Irish twins born 11 months apart. And when she went in for her 6 week check-up after the second birth she found out that she was pregnant again.
I tried to focus on collecting the girls and their shoes, but all I could think about was the Irish-twin-having mom. HOW DID SHE DO IT?
I mean, I can barely keep it together these days and both of my kids are older than all three of hers.
I watched her for a minute. Chasing after the toddler, checking in on the baby in the carrier and stretching her back. She just did it.
We all just do it.
Like when there’s a sick baby who doesn’t understand that being sick means laying down and sleeping and watching TV. And instead they whine and cry and puke all over the house.
We just do it.
Or when we’ve almost made it through the store and our kid looks up at the cashier and asks, “Why does she have a beard?”
We just do it. (We die a little inside, but we still do it.)
Or when our kid misbehaves on a playdate and we raise our voice and everyone around us jumps at our tone and someone actually gasps. But not our kid, she doesn’t seem phased.
What? That’s just me? Fine, whatever. I just do it.
When the day melts down by 2pm and it’s raining and it’s boring and it’s loud in the house.
We just do it.
Or when there’s nothing to make for dinner and it wouldn’t matter if there were because we’re not going to cook anyway and we really want to order out but we know we can’t afford it.
We pull out the pancake mix and just do it.
Because there’s just something about being a mom that makes us do it. Some strange, autopilot strength that kicks in when we’ve shut down and carries us through to bedtime.
Because sometimes we just need to make it to bedtime.
There’s always hope at bedtime.
And quiet and peace and a moment to ponder how glad we are to have done it.
©2009 CEK. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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