My son spills his milk, and the kitchen side now has a milk pool. The milk pool drips and spills onto the floor, right onto my feet.
An inner discomfort fills my body. I hear my inner thoughts, "Why did this happen? I've just cleaned this kitchen now everything's a mess. I'm a mess, and I will be the one who has to clean it up."
I breathe, and I see a story replaying inside of me of all the women that walked before me, all the stories of my grandmothers and great-grandmothers and so forth.
Their story isn't mine, but I know it. They were tired mothers, underfed by life, unable to hold their emotions and regulate themselves in the chaos of Mothering.
I pick up a towel to mop up the mess and respond to my son, "Uh oh, let's clean up together!" we smile, and suddenly the act of cleaning together becomes a moment of closeness.
Mothering doesn't have to feel like a huge fight or battle. Ultimately, whatever Mothering gives me, I'm the only one who can CHOOSE how I will experience it.
If I CHOOSE to experience a tender moment through an outdated painful story, I will not find joy in my mothering journey.
I can't regulate myself, refuse to be present, or come from an egoic imprint, I struggle to find joy in Mothering.
But, when I can move past my victimhood and painful stories, I understand that how I experience my mothering journey is based on how much responsibility, honesty and self-awareness I'm willing to have with myself.
I say this with humility and compassion to myself and the women before me, who didn't know better, so couldn't do better.