I Can't Get Anything Done

I didn’t get anything done today,” I complained at the end of a long day as I tucked the new baby in her crib and sighed. “I feel exhausted, but the house and the kids look as messy as they did when the day started.”

“What did you do today?” my husband answered.

I gave him a dirty look.

“I’m not trying to be funny,” he continued. “What did you do today?”

“Well, I got up at five to feed, change, and rock the baby. Then there was breakfast, baths, and dishes, and then it was time to feed, change, and rock the baby again. Then there was washing, lunch, more dishes, rides to kindergarten, homework, piano lessons, and then it was time to feed, change, and rock the baby again.”

“Hold it,” my husband interrupted. “It sounds as though you did quite a bit. So what’s the problem?”

“I don’t know. I guess I mean I didn’t get anything important done today. You know, something besides the same old routine.”

“Join the crowd,” my husband answered.

We both yawned and crawled into bed. Just when we had almost dropped off to sleep, the baby cried again from her crib.

“I’ll get her,” I whispered as my husband rolled over and moaned.

I cradled our young daughter in my arms and walked down the hall into the den. Sitting in the overstuffed rocker, I gently enclosed the baby in the bend of my neck. Her tiny body relaxed as I quietly sang the words of her favorite song, “How I love my little Ashley, sweet and precious little Ashley. How I love my little Ashley. Honest to goodness, I do.”

I felt Ashley’s warm infant body mold to mine, and after a moment she began the deep breathing of sleep. Normally I’d have hurriedly put her back to bed, but I could see the stars from the window in the night sky, and something held me there.

“What did I do today?” I asked myself again. “I rocked my baby and told her I loved her.”

Maybe I didn’t finish the wash, vacuum the stairs, or solve the world’s hunger problems. Maybe I didn’t write the great American novel or even scrub the sinks. But I rocked my baby and told her I loved her. And maybe, just maybe, that is the most important thing I will ever do.

For moms, we love you for all that you do for our children.