I’m stooped over, washing green marker off the wall. I have a bucket of water at my side and the phone up to my ear. I’m discussing carpool arrangements, but I have to keep excusing myself so I can tell my kindergartner to stop tormenting the girls upstairs. At the same time, I’m balancing my two-year-old, who insists on ‘climbing’ me.

Suddenly, all at once, I smell the chili burning on the stove, hear the girls screech, “Nooo!!!” as my son pries his way into their room, and feel my toddler fall from my back into the bucket of water.

And then, the doorbell rings. It’s my neighbor. She has just gotten off work and is here to pick up her daughter. Five minutes later, as I watch her open the door of her posh SUV, I can’t help but notice her trendy heels and classy suit.

As I push up the sleeves to my hooded sweatshirt, now wet from holding a soppy baby, and begin dumping the burnt chili into the sink, I ask myself, “Why am I doing this again? I mean, I want to be a stay-at-home mom, right?“

When you’re in the middle of the chaos, it’s easy to dream about a sterile, non-cheerio infested office. You wonder how it would feel to enter that place in your own trendy heals and classy suit. You can almost feel the non-sticky door knob, inviting you to come in and ‘find yourself’.

In times like these, it’s good to remind myself of what I’ve already found: The satisfaction of spending myself on my family. The noble hope of layering godly character onto the hearts of three little people who will soon be catapulted into the next generation. The wonder that God uniquely gifted me for this role. And the anticipation of his probing review of my life–when he will sift and weigh my investments.

Yes, I remember now. Why am I a stay-at-home mom? I’m here because I want to be.

This was taken from an article I wrote several years ago, published by Heartcry! Journal. Read more  here.