I've tried to let Isla put on her own underwear but she often emerges from the task saying, "My undies aren't workin', which usually means she has put one of her legs through the waist band again, leaving a too tight leg band around her waist.
And anyways, I like doing it for her. It makes me feel maternal, reliable, giving. Especially when she grabs hold of my ears to keep her balance.
Motherhood is repetitive.
I repeat phrases, like, "don't forget to brush your teeth," or "drink your water," or "Actually, I don't think that's such a great idea," all day long.
But I also repeat actions. Actions like raking my fingers through my girls' tangled, wet hair, or tucking that stubborn strand behind an ear, and getting a spoon from the drawer, or pouring cereal into a bowl, or stirring cocoa powder into the mug of warm milk, or slicing and peeling apples.
The other day while I was slicing and peeling yet another apple and assembling the pieces, on a plate with cheese, for my "snacky" children, it occurred to me that I had been in that exact pose so many times before. It was deja vu without the spooky part, because I know where I've seen it before. I've lived it, again and again.
I have sliced and peeled so many apples for my kids, I don't think I'm even conscious of doing it anymore. And I definitely don't think I've ever stopped to notice just how perfect, beautiful even, an apple is. I am an apple peeling machine. I am a mother.
Could this go in the special- skills section of a resumé?
- Can fasten bike helmets, nine times out of ten, without pinching skin under chin.
- Can make bad undies work again.
- Can slice apples with finesse.
Some more repetitive parenting topics are being discussed over here.