Two of the children came rushing into my bedroom at 3:00 this morning after being shaken awake by booming thunder and driving rain. I kept waiting for the third child, but for some reason he was able to stay asleep during the loudest thunder I have ever heard. In my entire life.
I didn't allow them to crawl up in bed with the husband and me. I made them sleep on the floor. By the side of my bed. And when middle daughter expressed her fear of the storm, I tenderly hung my hand off the side of the bed so she could hold it. Because I was too tired to cuddle her. And since it was too impossible to hang both hands over the side of the bed, I only semi-tenderly comforted one of my precious daughters. Because it would have taken too much effort to comfort two of them. I tell you, I don't think rationally or compassionately when I am tired and trying to sleep.
And the thunder boomed and crashed and the house shook with each crack of thunder. It was loud! Loud. It even startled the husband who jumped a couple times in his semi-asleep condition during the storm.
And I say I don't know what kind of mother I am, because all I wanted was to sleep. If I were Maria, I would have jumped up and sang a song to my children about favorite things, complete with choreography and jumping on the bed and wrapping up in curtains and all sorts of carrying on. But all I could think was, a) I hope the fissure doesn't open up and swallow this house and b) I still have 5 good hours of sleeping left- let's get on with it.
I love Maria. She was probably a great mom. Plus, she could play the guitar.