Wake up. Too Early.
Pour a cup of coffee. That will need to be reheated at least twice.
Make breakfast. "I don't want that, Mama."
Take a shower. As tiny hands bang on the door.
Throw in a load of laundry. Quietly ignore the pile on the couch waiting to be folded.
Make a snack, pour a drink. Search for a lost sippy cup.
Fix lunch. Chicken nuggets… again.
Do the dishes, wipe down the counters. All the while knowing the sparkle of the kitchen will never last.
Spend the afternoon doing all the things. Playing, tidying, reading, organizing.
Throw something together for dinner. "I don't want that either, Mama."
Bath time, story time, bedtime. Please let the kids fall right to sleep.
Fall into bed yourself. And lay awake, stuck with the thoughts in your mind.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
Does any of this sound familiar, mama? Too familiar maybe?
Sometimes this parenting thing feels like one big scene from Groundhog Day. You don't remember auditioning for a part, yet here you are, waking up day after day to find yourself stuck in the same pattern as yesterday, and the day before, and every day you can recall preceding that one.
Sure, the details vary in the slightest. Yesterday it was a dinosaur t-shirt that you sprayed the mac 'n' cheese stain out of; today, it's teddy bears and ketchup.
Yes, the details vary, but the big picture is the same.
The monotony of this motherhood thing can be enough to drive you mad, right? And some days, you'll let it do just that. Some days you'll squirm with restlessness as you longingly look out your window to the trees whose leaves are the only things that seem to have changed in the last six months.
You wonder how you got stuck in this hamster wheel and more importantly, how you'll ever get out.
I know this feeling of "stuck" all too well. I know how it feels to wake up in the morning and lay in bed staring at the ceiling, trying to find it in your heart and mind to do it all again; all of the hard, all of the boring, all of the same.
I know the shame you feel in counting down the hours in the day, wishing the moments away because they've become so tedious that you no longer find any zest within their walls.
I know that the motions of your routine have become so second-nature that you could waltz through them with your eyes closed. And sometimes, you do.
If you feel like you're reliving your days, Mama—well, it's probably because you (mostly) are.
Do you know what else you do every single day, over and over again?
You teach these tiny humans the lessons that will help them evolve into bigger, more whole versions of themselves. Versions who will change minds, change hearts, change the world.
You inspire the warmest belly laughs your ears have ever heard, and you join in the joyful chorus right along with them.
You offer hug after hug after hug to little ones who long for your comfort. Little ones who cling to your shirt, bury their face in your chest and find that with you, they're home.
You tell stories that spark magic into the creative imaginations of grand adventurers and you teach little hearts to navigate big emotions.
Day after day, you feed these hungry souls with all that is wonderful and kind and brave.
You love these little ones of yours in a way that no one else could ever, or will ever.
You love them with a passion so fierce and a strength so true, that you're willing to do this life. You're willing to cater to the sameness of motherhood—for them.
There is plenty of bland and boring in this monotony, to be sure. But if we allow ourselves to see it, there is even more bold and beautiful to be found in these days.
So, Mama? Even when you feel like you're doing the same darn thing Every. Single. Day—carry on, and don't you ever forget:
Every moment—even the ones that repeat and grow stale and carry so much weight—every moment… it matters. It matters so very much.