This year has been.....how shall I put it? Eventful. My pregnancy was rocky. In our family we've had a broken leg, kidney stones, dehydration requiring hospitalization, and a car accident involving a deer. Kind of a lot to handle.
I am now a mother of four. Count 'em 1, 2, 3, 4! I've always heard "after three it is all the same. You're already out numbered, the older ones are helpful and life doesn't get any harder." I believed these mothers. And perhaps it was true for them. But I declare THEY LIED! My life with four has been crazy hard.
I believe Jim Gaffigan described four children best as "Imagine you're drowning and someone hands you a baby."
I am tired with my newborn who wakes every two hours to eat. My back still aches from my epidural. My back gets no relief as I lift my 50lb son with his long leg cast into/out of the car/wheelchair/tub. My 23month old daughter is a crazy person cleverly disguised as a curly headed angel. She is touching everything from her new brothers eyes to the pot of water on the stove to the sharp knives to my cell phone updating my contacts with ppoijwkjleh,mhd. No, I don't know that person. She escapes out of the house, she drinks the dishwater from the sink, empties the silverware drawer, dumps all the puzzles and climbs into the baby swing with him still in it.
My children like most siblings are wonderful playmates until it becomes more amusing to torment their sister/brother. Never thought I'd have to yell "Do not lick his toys!"
Some days I cry because this is all too much for me. Some days I sulk because I have to change another diaper and pin the toddler to the floor to do it. Some days are spent mourning the laundry that didn't make it into the dryer in time and now smells gross. Some days I spend too much time yelling and not enough time loving. I sit on a couch that is uncomfortable and dream of the couch I can't afford. I'm forlorn over the vacations that we won't be taking. I second guess every decision I made for the last week: what I ate, who I called, who I didn't call, how I punished the kids, how I didn't punish the kids, what I bought, my ability to mother.
Here is what I've concluded. My life is hard, but my focus on the hard doesn't make it easier. It doesn't make it more enjoyable. It changes nothing. My worries can't heal my son's broken leg. My gripping won't bring me a new couch. My yelling won't stop my children from fighting.
Complaining almost feels like a relief at first. The first time I confided in someone how difficult four kids has been for me I felt better. But each time I expressed it again that relief didn't come, only guilt. I feel guilty for not jumping up and down and saying "I adore my children. I'm so blessed to have a healthy body that can create life. They live with me everyday of the year. I don't have to send them to daycare or pack them up for holidays. I get to kiss them goodnight. I get to teach them the gospel. I get to be their mama." I feel guilty that I may discourage another family from having more children because "Mel said it is too hard."
There is little I can control and change in my life. But I get to choose how I cope with it all, the words I speak and the actions I take.
Baby steps helped me through today. Instead of yelling across the room for the kids to clean up, I sat on the floor with them and zoomed cars down a ramp. Instead of crawling under the table to clean up macaroni after dinner, I helped my son complete a floor puzzle of the USA. Instead of checking facebook, I stared into my 3 week old son's big blue eyes and talked about our day together. Instead of listening to the radio in the car, I listened to my 1st grader freely talk about the colors of the sky at sunset and her opinion of Twizzlers.
Today, my children still cried. My to-do list still grew longer. My back still aches. My life did not get easier, but it did seem brighter.
Today, I recognized what needed to change
and it was me.
