The Paradox of Motherhood

The paradox of motherhood is never more obvious, to me, than in the summer. How can I feel so much overwhelming love for each of my children - the kind of love that makes tears of thankfulness literally spring to my eyes without warning - yet in another moment, feel so incredibly frustrated that I wonder if it's possible for my head to actually explode from one more utterance of the word "Mom" with a request or complaint attached? I think love/hate is much too strong, but love/so-over-it might be appropriate.

In the summer, there is an abundance of everything. Too much meal prep and clean-up, too much activity planning and refereeing, too much talking, too many questions, too much laundry... But also, so many hugs throughout the day, much more snuggle time in the mornings, so many more opportunities for imaginative questions and deep conversations, more bike rides and lazy afternoons at the pool... The paradox. 

Whoever coined the phrase, "The days are long, but the years are short." was a genius, and had moms squarely in mind. How can I so desperately want to speed up the days, and yet - simultaneously- want to hold back the years?