Dear Higher Power, be it God, the Universe, or any celestial entity that might be tuning in while my kids are not:
Here I am, on my knees, seeking your wisdom in this wild journey of motherhood. Sure, I’m also scrubbing dried oatmeal off the carpet, but multitasking doesn’t mean my heart isn’t in this prayer.
Today, grant me the strength to navigate the grocery store parking lot with my 4-year-old, who’s currently wailing that she absolutely must have that pony cookie or she will unfriend me. Help me channel my energy into compassion rather than throwing my hands in the air and yelling at her as if she’s auditioning for a reality show.
During this delightful meltdown, bless me with the ability to gently restrain her surprisingly powerful limbs instead of reacting in anger. And when she attempts to deliver a roundhouse kick to my face, give me the self-control to resist the urge to retaliate.
I also crave an abundance of patience today—more than I ever thought possible. I need enough patience to cradle my baby as he drifts off to sleep, even while I rock, bounce, nurse, and occasionally squat, all while my pelvic floor muscles remind me of their limits. Help me resist the urge to shake him awake when I’m exhausted, for he is a fleeting bundle of cuteness I can’t afford to rush.
We’re both utterly worn out, God. After my baby finally succumbs to sleep on my unwashed body, instead of wishing he would just slip away so I can have a moment to myself, help me cherish that precious time, for these moments are fleeting.
Also, grant me empathy so I can appreciate the absolute importance of slicing sandwiches into triangles instead of rectangles—even if they just asked for rectangles 20 seconds ago. Help me remember that I, too, change my mind, albeit with a bit less drama.
As one child bolts from me in a parking lot, let me chase after them in my flip-flops, appreciating their adventurous spirit despite my post-baby belly jiggling in protest. And when I find my son indulging in soggy toilet paper he fished from the toilet, please help me suppress my gag reflex, because I cannot handle any more clean-up, even if it’s my own. I just can’t.
When my daughter decides to style herself in sparkly tights, a tank top over a tiger shirt, and a knit beanie, grant me the strength to nurture her creativity without worrying that she might grow up to be an eccentric poet reciting verses about her privileged upbringing in hipster cafés.
Today, I also seek the patience to address the 602 questions they will inevitably ask, responding with tenderness instead of exasperation. Questions like why cats are called cats or the difference between breasts and nipples are profound inquiries. Remind me that their curiosity is what makes them brilliant, even if it drives me a bit bonkers.
Instead of comparing myself to those robotic moms, help me to speak kindly to myself, even when my voice is shouting, “Pick up your toys or they’re going in the trash!” And as one child gnaws on my arm while the other pretends to be a rabid animal, please provide me with wine—because it’s going to be one of those days.
Help me turn their high-pitched shrieks into laughter and joy rather than threats, especially when they yell “penis” in a family restaurant. And when they splatter macaroni everywhere, remind me that their table manners don’t reflect on me—they must have inherited that from their father.
Speaking of my husband, bless me with love to continue showering him with affection, even when he moans about being tired after a full night’s sleep, mouth agape, tempting me to shove something in it. And please boost my libido when he actually wipes down the high chair for the second time in our relationship.
As I glance at my body—marked by motherhood, adorned with under-eye bags, stretch marks, and breasts that seem to have their own gravitational pull—help me to not hold resentment against my children. Instead, let me be grateful for the beautiful chaos they’ve brought into my life. One day, when I’m back in diapers and babbling about jello, they will be the ones caring for me, and I really don’t want to mess that up.
Amen.
For more inspiration on the journey of motherhood and parenting, check out our other posts, such as this one on intracervical insemination. If you’re interested in fertility options, you can also visit Make A Mom for expert insights. For comprehensive resources on pregnancy and home insemination, consider exploring UCSF’s Center.
Summary
This humorous prayer captures the daily struggles of motherhood, from tantrums and sleep deprivation to the challenges of nurturing creativity and curiosity in children. It’s a heartfelt plea for strength, patience, and love amidst the chaos, reminding us of the fleeting nature of childhood and the importance of cherishing every moment.