What I think it means to be a mom

This day was like so many as of late: long and busy. I “started” the day out with a twelve-hour hospital shift with very little air time. 

Then I came home, to a delicious supper my hubby made for our family. That was wonderful! 

And then I could have gone to bed.  Seriously, would have fallen asleep in minutes. But, nope.

Outside to help pick 25 pints of cherry tomatoes for tomorrow’s farmers market, because hubby couldn’t do it today while he was preparing for the new school year and kids were at band camp.

Then bed? 

 Nope! Youngest son has a dozen “look what I did, mom” moments to show me. 

Then read bedtime book with youngest two, add bedtime prayers, and kiss good dreams into their foreheads. And tuck them in.

Then bed?

Nope. Make sure my high schoolers have what they need for the morning (6:30 XC run, then band camp all day, then piano for one and babysitting for the other). And make sure they get a few minutes of mom solo.

Then bed?

Nope! College kid called, which is rare, so you make time for it.

Then bed?

Nope! Now I’m too wound up to fall asleep! And so I blog and read and read blogs and avoid angry social media and discuss bills and tractors and farming plans and injured farm cats and bombs in Beirut. 

And, then bed?

After a daily scripture? Hopefully. Because it starts all over again in just under seven hours.