No. There are no words I know to come close to what I experience, what I know, what cherish when my mind wonders towards the thought of my children, or when I hear their names.
By the same token there is an equal failure in language to articulate the pain, desperation, frustration, anger, sadness that dwells within my heart when my children suffer an injury or a crushing blow to their own hearts.
Motherhood living is so much more than anything anyone can ever really prepare you for, more brilliant and dim than can be explained. Being a Mother brings this women to the most exquisite bliss and suffering, the deepest agony of joy, the most bitter sweetness, an introduction to every level of color and grays, secure uncertainty, insecure certainty, hopeful helplessness, hopeless helpfulness, confused clarity, clear confusion, faith, fear, and, oh, so much more perplexing wretched beautiful things indescribable.
I love my children. A simple, under stated, lack luster, shallow, inadequate four words...the only ones I know, the only ones to give...yet they mean so much. Because I do love them, I'm willing to be an advocate, a sacrificial lamb, the "scape goat", the monster to be hated, the wiper of tears, listener to rants, the receiver of hateful spew, the seeker of the lost, the reader of stories, the cook of food uneaten, the prayer of prayers, the alarm clock, the taxi driver unpaid every time, the brusher of hair, the turnip squeezed everyday hoping for blood, the bank teller, the singer of songs at night, and the tired emotionally drained ball of mess that I am.
And...every so often, I get the most loving supportive hug, the sweetest smile, the look of gratitude, the THANKS, the enjoyment of meals made, the thrill of seeing them attain something they really wanted or needed...
I love my children. It really doesn't begin to put all that other stuff in there, does it? Nah, not at all.
But. There it is:
I LOVE MY CHILDREN!!!
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