Bubbles: Tiny Pops or Karate Chops?

For most, bubbles are gentle iridescent spheres drifting away on a silent breeze. Tiny giggles and squeals chase after them as they slip over the fence, up into the sky and away to places only our imagination can dream to go. Their pops are silent but leave a tiny splash to remind us of the joy of childhood.

But for my boys, bubbles are the enemy line, encroaching in on our front yard, threatening our very existence. The battlefield is marked by a fence, guarded by my kids, and the bubbles don’t stand a chance.

These soldiers of mine are equipped with their best weapons, like foam swords and boxing gloves, or are ready for hand to hand combat. One by one, bubbles go down, surrendering to the mercy of my troops. Each burst bubble is a cry of defeat. They are surrounded on all sides as my three soldiers work to fight off the attack and prevent escapees.

In motherhood, I have learned that in order to survive, I have to adapt.

Each day, I am realizing how differently the minds of my boys work than mine. I am constantly trying to match their energy, or at least keep up with it. My dreams of quietly coloring at the table or having afternoon tea parties faded with each birth of a son.

This didn’t mean I surrendered in defeat though. Nope, I chose to adapt. I learned that to survive in a house full of boys, I had to embrace their energy and competitive nature. I had to turn bubble popping into a battle for survival, much like how daily strolls have become adventure quests, couch pillows have turned into shields, sticks transform into swords and pillow cases make the best superhero capes.

Adapting is just part of the motherhood journey. So to all moms, I salute you.

Leave me a comment below and tell me how you’ve had to adapt in motherhood.