Riley’s drawing of us taking Abby for a walk.

Sometimes, I try to imagine what my life would be like if I never had kids.  If I were one of those women that didn’t want to have kids, what could my life have been?  Would I travel the world at the drop of a hat?  Could I eat what I want when I want it instead of being subjected to peanut butter and jelly sandwiches every day for lunch?  Would I have a hobby that keeps me busy or a high-powered career instead of being a stay at home mom who kisses boo-boos?  Maybe I would work side by side with my husband.  Maybe I’d actually get to use the restroom, take a bath, or God forbid talk on the phone without constant interruption.  Perhaps I’d be able to fit into those size 6 jeans again, or I’d have fewer wrinkles, and sleep longer and better.  Maybe I’d have a nicer wardrobe that wasn’t covered in bananas and juice.  Hey, a girl can dream.

I might trade it all for one of these.

You know what I wouldn’t have, though?  I wouldn’t have the sticky fingerprints all over my kitchen counter, and the spilled milk in the fridge.  I wouldn’t have the cereal dropped on my dining room floor, and the muddy footprints tracked from the back door to the stairs.  I would miss all of that.  I would miss the bear hugs, and the “Mommy, come check on me every two minutes” requests from my daughter.  I would miss the crazy giggles and ear-piercing screams from my son.  I would miss the funny things Riley says and the sweet smiles that Jamie gives me.  I for sure wouldn’t have the kitchen cabinets and most of the walls in my house covered in finger paintings, with stick figures and suns drawn into the corner of the paper.  I wouldn’t have the laughter, squeals of happiness, and the Doc McStuffins theme song stuck in my head, making me deliriously happy.  My life would not be nearly as complete without my monkeys.

Some days, though, I would definitely give them away for a quiet cup of coffee and a moment of solitude.  I would miss them terribly, after about 10 minutes.  When Jamie is screaming the “brown note” (see previous post about that one), and Riley is asking me for the forty-seventh time if she can have a cookie and then go play at her friend’s house, when Joel is trying to tell me about the problem he’s having on a site at work, I’d trade them all in for a York Peppermint Patty.  Of course, my Mama guilt would kick in and I’d feel terrible that I traded them in for something so inconsequential and I’d have to go get them back.  Then it would be about another two hours or so and I’d be ready to trade them again.  I mean, have you ever had a York?  It might be worth it.  It’s a vicious circle.

On this Just for Mamas Monday, I’d like to ask: What do you think you would be doing if you didn’t have your little miracles?

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