Like many moms, I suffer from selective amnesia. Mostly, it revolves
around things like pregnancy, labor, childbirth, and the isolating
early days with a newborn, which, with the first baby, culminated
in the night I emptied the Diaper Genie and my battered soul by
howling something unintelligible and swinging a roll of
smelly nappies over my head.

Thank goodness for the sharp memory of my husband, who sometimes
finds it wise to remind me about those things.

My baby is six-weeks old now, which means she has reached that
magical age when the doctors okay her (and her mommy) to fully
participate in life. But there are these struggles that keep
popping upstruggles that I had somehow forgotten about in the
two years between babies, and I have to rely on my husband's
remarkable memory once again to let me know that these were
the same issues that popped up after the first baby. Then
they buried themselves deep in some dark hole somewhere only
to re-emerge now that we are settling in with daughter number two.

I have become familiar enough with these problems that they
now have a name. They are The Monsters. The Monsters emerge
from this dark hole to crawl around my brain when I can't
sleep at night, and they pop out of my mouth before I can
stop them.

The say mean things about finances and the sharing of
responsibilities. At bottom, they may just be a sign
that I'm bored enough to want to pick a fight for the
sheer drama of the experience. Because I now recall
some of these struggles that you all report and I seem
to have forgotten. It's the tedium of playing with the
playdough and vacuuming up the playdough and finding
playdough in my bedsheets.

It's the lack of control that pervades my days. It's
the attempt to get up four hours before the rest of
my family because in this warped world of early motherhood,
work time counts as "me time," and hearing my toddler's
footsteps on the landing as she makes the long climb to
my office. I'm glad she takes the steps one-foot-at-a-time
because it affords me the time to sweep away my initial
reaction, which may involve the words, "Can't you give
mommy a few moments of peace after all the sacrifices
she makes" and somehow dissolves into an empathetic
smile, a long hug, and a tuck-in to the mattress I've
moved into my office for this very scenario, which
usually happens about half-past four.

It's times like these when I struggle to recall how
I finally reclaimed the power and the control over my
life after my first child. After a little searching,
I remember. After a long while, I snatched at all the
control I could, and I let the rest go.

I surrendered to it after realizing that, no matter how
hard I try, I can't control when the little ones will
wake or when they'll want to eat or when they'll poop,
but I can control the way I deal with it. I can control
my energy level by controlling what I eat and how much
I exercise I get. I can even control a few things in my
work life.

After the first baby, I reclaimed my power by joining
a gym with good childcare and started a home business.
This time, I kickbox during naptime and work - mostly for the sake
of my own identity - during the wee hours.

Through it all, I repeat to myself (as though it were a
mantra) that these choices are mine. I chose the nursing
pads by insisting on breastfeeding. I chose the crazy work
hours by insisting on staying home with my girls. And if I
forget, my husband will remind me of that, too.

Happy Mother's Day to you all. May you clutch what's
important this year and surrender what is not. And may
God grant you the wisdom, as that familiar prayer pleads,
to know the difference.

About the author:
Susie Michelle Cortright is the author of More Energy for Moms -
http://www.momscape.com/energy - and founder of the award-winning
website Momscape.com, designed to help busy women find balance.
Visit http://www.momscape.com today and get Susie's free
course-by-email "6 Days to Less Stress."