Quiet

I confess that I am not Super Mom.

The multitasking talent that is at the core of motherhood often overwhelms me.  Juggling activities, making the household run and keeping my three young boys happy is sometimes more exasperating than fulfilling. At the end of the day, when the playroom looks like a bomb went off and the boys have often transformed into cranky, loud, tired beasts, I ache for solitude and silence.

We scramble to pick up toys and resolve squabbles as I mentally check out. I become Robo-Mom on autopilot. As the sun sets, sometimes I barely register what my kids are saying to me as I drive for the final push toward bedtime with military-like precision. The same familiar phrases spill out of my mouth as I explain why boys need baths, remind them of the function of a hamper and oversee the important tooth-brushing operation. I am anxious for release and weary of them pulling on me and grabbing me. At bedtime, I tire of everyone needing something from me.
 
As my three little boys cuddle against me for their story, sometimes I soften and enjoy the sweet, damp curls of my 3-year-old, fresh from his bath, and smile while I listen to my 6-year-old explain why a certain superhero is definitely the best of all time. However, I choose a book because it has fewer words than another.

I am there with them, but my mind is already beyond where I am sitting. The story flies by, the children yawn and they scamper off to their beds, where I tuck them in with a kiss, my body exhaling with relief.

Finally, I am greeted with silence and the promise of a few hours that belong only to me.

Why is it, then, that as I head to bed I find myself creeping into their rooms? I kneel down beside them and drink them in. As they sleep, I notice their perfect lips, their plump cheeks and I stroke their hair.

I remember how fast it is going. Soon they won’t want to be on my lap for a
bedtime story. Soon they won’t ask for a million kisses before they fall
asleep. I slip into bed with my 4-year-old, who always begs for extra
snuggles. So I give them to him while I inhale his little boy scent. I hold his
tiny hand for awhile, and it is quiet at last.