If Mom Had Three Arms

This book is one of our library picks this go 'round.  And it is a current fave of the kids.  Me too.  Because I wish for more arms all the time.  Unlike the book, however, I wouldn't be playing video games or flying kites with my extra limbs.  I'd be keeping Caden occupied with two hands while I cut his hair with the other twelve.  That way, I'd have a chance of getting the job completed relatively evenly, and in less than three days.  I'd get forty nails cut regularly before the kids had time to protest.  I'd pack for a trip in record time.  I'd never have to tell anyone to "hold on" or "wait a minute" because "Mommy is working as fast as she can".  I'd have the playroom organized, dinner ready and my hair done every day when my husband came home.  But alas.  I only have two.  So haircuts are destined to be stress-inducing nuclear meltdowns that take the better part of a week to complete.  Nail trimming requires stealth, profuse distraction and sometimes the pretzel hold.  Packing starts in my head, a week before we leave.  Revs up in earnest two days prior.  And doesn't conclude until we arrive at our destination, completely unpack and find that nothing is missing.  Waiting is a reality.  My baseboards are dirty.  And my husband probably doesn't even remember what I look like with make up on.

The thing is, while it really stinks to feel like I'm always in the weeds,  there is a small part of me that likes knowing my two arms are all I have.  That is a daily reminder that I am not ever going to be able to do it all.  Not even some of it.  I can only do a little really.  So I've got to choose what I do with my two arms.

In that choosing, there is some guilt over what I put aside.  But less of it these days.  I sleep well at night, knowing that while my house isn't as clean as it could be... my kids could not be more loved.  And if I am never good at any other job in the world, I want to be good at this one; loving my kids well.