Today I awoke early to the sounds of a sweet little girl smacking her lips and chewing on her fist.  Nobody else would do, just mama.

As the morning progressed a little boy got his head caught in his shirt and called down the hallway in a panic.  Sister tried to save him, but she wouldn’t do, just mama.

A frustrated girl sat at the table trying to figure out her school work.  Nobody else could calm her fear of failure, just mama.

There are moments where being “just mama”, is exhausting.  There are moments when you feel on the brink of losing yourself, tightly clinging to every last shred of your identity, the self that existed before you became “just mama”.  There are times where the cries and the needs feel like all too much to bear.  It feels like every ounce of you is poured out, used up by the little people around you, the little hands and feet and voices, needing, constantly needing something.

But if I weren’t willing to be “just mama”, who would answer the baby who smacks her lips at me in the morning, and who would rescue the boy with the too tight shirt, and who would pronounce that word in Spanish over and over until the little girl could do it herself?  Sure, somebody else could do all that.

But one day, the baby who smacks will make her own breakfast.  And the boy will never try to wear a shirt that is too tight again.  And the little girl will not need “just mama” to impart wisdom, for she will have wisdom of her own.

Where will “just mama” be then?

She will be remembering the sounds of a hungry baby in the wee hours of the morning.  Longing for just one last smell of her baby skin, and one more wide toothless grin.

She will be longing to rub the head of the little boy who was so frightened when his shirt got stuck, and wish she could hug him until he felt better just one last time.

She will be wishing she had spent more time pouring wisdom into the life of the little girl, and wishing she could see the look of relief in the little girls eyes once more.

And then, being “just mama” won’t sound so bad.  Not bad at all.  It will sound like a wonderful dream, a dream that felt like it would never end, but it did, as dreams sadly do.

So in the meantime, I will cherish the sounds of the lip smacking girl and feel blessed that she needs me so desperately.

And  I will cherish the sight of the little stuck boy, and secretly laugh at his desperation, but hold him close because his fear is real, and he needs me so desperately.

And I will come to the aide of the girl struggling for wisdom, because I know the time is coming soon, where my wisdom will run short, and she will seek the wisdom of our Lord alone, but for now, she needs me so desperately.

And in the moments, where I feel close to the edge, when I feel used up, and empty, when I feel that the demands are all too much, I will run to my God, because I need Him.  I need Him so, so desperately.

And I will do it all with joy because I know one day, all too soon, being “just mama” will be the best thing I have ever done.