Four Pieces Of Pie

It’s days like these I feel particularly fortunate to be a mother.  We woke up early to have breakfast with Jack before he left for work, sewed a dress for Claire to match Evie’s, baked homemade dog treats, played together at the park and took a bath while listening to a queue of favorite songs.  The girls giggled for a good half an hour before napping for a solid two hours allowing me to type some reminiscent stories in our farm memoir, watch a show, feeling refreshed after the catnap that followed.  Now in their pajamas and smelling of sweet baby lotion, they’re playing together.   My entire day–and every day–is filled with concern and care for them.

Though there are some who scorn mothers who sacrifice careers for youngsters, I don’t wonder if I did the right thing deciding to stay at home.  Even the worst days, stressed because my children are unknowingly prodding the devil on my shoulder, I still would rather be gritting my teeth and learning patience than earning money to pay someone else to raise them while I was away.  It is difficult but I don’t doubt that it’s worth it.

To put it in the metaphoric words of Tenneva Jordan, “A mother is a person who, seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie.”