To the divine, be it God, Jesus, Allah, the Universe, or whatever celestial entity might be tuning in to my frantic thoughts, I come to you in humble supplication as I strive to be the best mother I can be. Yes, I may be simultaneously scrubbing dried oatmeal from the rug, but please do not confuse my multitasking for a lack of sincerity in my plea.
Grant me the strength I need today, dear divine presence. Physical strength, so I may carry my spirited 4-year-old across the grocery store parking lot while she unleashes a tempest of demands for that pony-shaped cookie, insisting that without it, our friendship is at stake. And let me find the emotional resilience to validate her feelings instead of resorting to expletives when her behavior seems more suited for a circus than a family outing.
During these trying moments, provide me with the fortitude to gently restrain her surprisingly powerful limbs without giving in to frustration. As she attempts to karate chop me in the face, instill in me the ability to hold back my own impulses and respond with love instead.
Today, I also seek an abundance of patience—more than I could ever derive from caffeine. I require enough patience to endure the lengthy process of soothing my baby to sleep in my arms, whether it be through rocking, bouncing, nursing, or even lunges. Help me to resist the urge to shake him out of sheer exhaustion, as tempting as it may be when he seems to be the only one awake in the house.
We are both so worn out, divine presence. After he finally drifts off to slumber against my sweaty, unwashed self, instead of wishing for a moment of solitude, help me relish this fleeting time, for he will not be this young forever.
I ask for empathy today, so that I can genuinely grasp the significance of my children’s wish for their sandwiches to be cut into triangles rather than rectangles, despite their earlier insistence on the latter. Guide me to remember that I, too, change my mind, albeit without the dramatic flair they display.
As one of my little ones dashes away in a parking lot, let me chase after them, flip-flops slapping against my feet, grateful for their spirited independence, even if my post-baby body jiggles with each step. When I discover my son gnawing on soggy toilet paper he extracted from the bathroom, please help me suppress my gag reflex—I’ve reached my limit on clean-up duty.
When my daughter chooses to dress herself in a dazzling array of mismatched clothing, grace me with the strength to celebrate her creativity. Shield me from anxieties about her future as a rebellious teenager reciting poetry in coffee shops, lamenting her supposedly privileged life.
I also request the endurance to respond to the endless stream of questions from my children today with kindness rather than annoyance. Their queries about why cats are called cats and the distinctions between different body parts are profound, and I need to remember that their curiosity is what drives their intelligence—even if it is driving me to the brink of sanity.
Instead of allowing my inner monologue to compare me to robotic mothers, lead my thoughts to be gentle as my outer voice occasionally shouts, “If you don’t pick up your toys, they’re going in the trash!” And as one child gnaws on my face with teething gums while another pretends to be an animal licking my arm, please bless me with a glass of wine; I could certainly use it to quiet the negative thoughts.
Assist me in channeling their loud, pterodactyl-like screeches into laughter and joy rather than threats or bribes, especially when they shout “penis” in the middle of a restaurant. And when they send bits of macaroni flying from their mouths, remember that their poor table manners are not a reflection of my parenting skills; they certainly inherited that from their father.
Speaking of my partner, I ask for love, dear divine being. Make my heart spacious enough to shower my husband with affection, even when he complains of tiredness despite having slept soundly through the night with his mouth agape, tempting me to shove a pillow in it. And may my desire for intimacy bloom when he wipes down the high chair for the second time in a month.
When I catch a glimpse of my body, now marked by motherhood and a diet of animal crackers and cheese, may I not harbor resentment toward my children for the changes I see. Instead, let me be thankful for the wonderful gifts they are, even if they sometimes seem ungrateful. I know that one day, when I find myself in a position of needing care, they will be the ones looking after me. I truly hope I don’t mess that up.
Amen.
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In summary, this heartfelt prayer outlines the everyday challenges of motherhood while seeking divine assistance in navigating the complexities of parenting—balancing patience, strength, empathy, and love, all while maintaining a sense of humor amidst the chaos.
Keyphrase: A Mother’s Prayer for Strength and Patience
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