Some days, we may not get dressed until 2:00 PM. Or we may be racing out the door just ahead of the school bus for an 8:00 AM meeting at the office (hoping that our briefcases include our presentation notes and NOT last night's math homework).
We may walk around with spit-up and who knows what else on our clothes (when we do manage to get dressed in the MORNING). Or we may wear our unwashed hair in a ponytail in the hopes that it fits into the "business casual" dress code.
There are fingerprints on our mirrors, spots on our floors, dust on the furniture, piles of clean and dirty laundry in the laundry room, and sometimes through the house. The floors need to be vacuumed... if only that toy Dirt Devil actually picked up dirt while it made obnoxious sounds!
We are tired (probably exhausted), ALL THE TIME. We're juggling schedules — ours and everyone else's — and we (I) literally can't make it through the morning (can't function... like walk or talk) without coffee.
We don't take a lot of time for ourselves (hence the ponytail) and it doesn't usually bother us that we don't. Sure, a little time for ourselves here and there would be nice (I believe it is needed), but we don't demand it.
We may not feel important, normal, sane, or appreciated most of the time. Our work at home is not always profound, note-worthy, extraordinary, or especially significant.
But the point is, as moms, we are irreplaceable.
We are THE WORLD to the little people we love more than life itself.
We are changing the world as we scrub the stamps off the white sofa, clean up the whole box of kosher pickling salt from inside the pantry, wipe the marker off of little legs, faces and arms, cuddle with littles in the middle of the afternoon, be way too silly, sing the same song 37 times, play dress up, hide and seek, or pretend snakes, ants, and spiders are in the "soup" our two-year-old makes in her kitchen.
Motherhood is hard. It's selfless. It's revolutionary.
What we give up for ourselves, our children find life in. We must die to ourselves to see fruit grow in anyone else. And that's the best way to sum up how we revolutionize the world. We do — one hug and kiss and cuddle at a time.
Every time we look into those precious and innocent souls and tell them that they mean the world to us, each time we pray with them and for them, when we teach them to help others, and how to truly love; when we discipline in some form or fashion even though it's hard and may not be popular, and each time we own up to "being human" and have to ask forgiveness for falling short — these are the things that form future adults, and that change the world.
They won't remember the piles of laundry, the disorganized cabinets, or the ponytails. (They love you just the way you are, and they think you are beautiful).
But, they will remember the times you said "I love you," the surprise in their lunch box, the encouragement before a test, the forts built in the den, the dinners made together, the stories read, the people helped, and your arms outstretched to tell them that they mean the world to you.
You are revolutionizing the world — one LIFE at a time!