i dive in as soon as my eyes flutter awake. straight into the depth of the morning ... coffee. shower. closet. "good morning." breakfast. clothing. "gym, today?" make up. teeth. kisses. love yous.
out the door.
i hit the ground running on a tuesday morning. which is my monday ... but still. i'm constantly playing catch up from the days before. meeting. paperworking. computering. emailing. calling. scheduling. reading. therapizing. nodding. gathering. shifting. smoothing. extinguishing. driving. listening. talking.
and i often quickly run home for kisses and cuddles and lunch.
and then i head back to another location or two for more meeting. paperworking. computering. emailing. calling. scheduling. reading. therapizing. nodding. gathering. shifting. smoothing. extinguishing. driving. listening. talking.
dinner. and homework. and bedtime. and chores.
and life.
this is all just to say ... damn. life is freaking hard. it's busy and chaotic and rushing and wonderful and full.
so. full. of a lovely chaos. that i rarely have time in my day to sit and get out the words and the creative mumbo-jumbo that eats me up inside late at night. i think in words and colors and textures. i dream of what i would say, what i might say, what i will say. my fingers long to tippity tap out words for noone but myself. because if i don't they might not get said.
is my life any different than yours?
do you feel like you are sometimes drowning in your days?
is that just who we are as mamas??
did my grandmother ever feel like this as she ushered 12 little lives from morning to night?
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i'm drowning. and sometimes i don't feel like i'm going to survive the depth of the waters. i feel like there is so much i want and so much i need and so much that i'm doing ... but there are certain things that are absolutely just not an option to give up. because they feed my soul. there are crazy things that i do late into the night when the house is quiet and the world has slowed down.
i kiss sleeping heads.
i write.
i play with photographs.
i whisper to myself.
i make milkshakes.
i breathe.
i take bubble baths.
i stretch.
i make hopes for tomorrow.
i forgive myself for today.
i sit.
i read.
i wonder.
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"you are a good mommy," she tells me.
"i could never do what you do," she says.
i look at her questioningly ... because holy granola ... she raised 6 children and had 6 others in her care for a large portion of their littleness. that's 12. twelve. TWELVE.
i'm drowning in 3.
"how can this be harder?" i ask her.
"there were TWELVE in your house. that's 9 more than i have. grandma! i don't know how *you* did it! patty always had broken bones. you had numerous sons. you had a husband that wasn't always around for help. you did so much on your own! no car. no daycare. i can't imagine."
it's a simple answer, she tells me that things were just different.
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it was quiet, here. the house stood still. i could hear the hum of the refrigerator. the whirr of the heat and a pup snoring in the living room.
a whimper rose to a full out cry ...
i left my words on the computer and fast tiptoed to his room.
he wouldn't fall asleep for me earlier. on a day when i felt the water toppling over my head and didn't know how i was going to make it through another hour ... he stalled. and sang ABCs and counted in his annoyingly sweet voice ...
1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. yay!
he applauded for himself over and over and over again.
i silently screamed. and grew increasingly frustrated.
i put him down. over and over and over again. the boy wouldn't go to sleep. until finally he laid in my lap long enough to nurse into sleepiness.
i tiptoed into the boy's room and sang him a lullaby ... quietly. without applause. i stroked his sweaty hair behind his ears and kissed his head softly.
i forgave myself for being frustrated. and forgave him for being almost two.
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i resurface ... not gasping for breath, but ready for sleep. i'm sure i'll dive into these waters again tomorrow. and i'm sure that i'll feel moments of drowning.
but i'll also feel moments of unbelieveable gratitude for what i've been given.
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and because a post is not a post without a photo ... my witches and my bat.
thanks for listening.
go visit her. she does some amazing things with words. someday i'll tell you about the lego on my desk.
and yes. those two things are related.
8 comments:
Coconutty looks like you in that last picture.
We are all drowning, and it really is bliss.
Yes! I do feel like this. And it is so hard to remove many of the wonderful things. our life is so busy - but busy in a good way. and someday, it will slow down. but finding methods for keeping afloat are essential! Sometimes a sweet smile and hug from my children is enough. Other times its someone helping out so I can have a break for a weekend. then I am refreshed and ready to go again.
I think the most helpful thing is the knowing that we have choices. It is a good thing to choose to feed our souls. But it relieves the pressure to know that we can come back to the things we choose to let go just for today.
Our grandmas didn't expect themselves to do the things we expect of ourselves. Look at the darling Halloween costumes. Those took TIME. You enjoyed that. The kids enjoyed that. Would you have it any other way? Probably not. COULD you have it any other way? Yes. Sometimes it's just being conscious of the fact that the time is spent on things you wanted to spend it on, and giving yourself permission not to THIS TIME if it is a moment when you just don't have it.
You know all this, but thanks for helping me process it for myself. :-) You are an awesome mom!
hi there,
This is my first time commenting, but I am comforted by the humor and honesty in your posts about just how hard raising a family can be. It's freakin' hard. I'm at snowpondroad.blogspot if you ever want to drop by. Thanks for your words...and beautiful photos ~Jillian
i'm drowning today with only two. i suppose its hard and sometimes soft and sometimes they go to sleep when they are supposed to and not when we need them to. and we'll do it again tomorrow and then we'll be sad when it is over. yes.
I love the pictures!!!!!!!!!!!
I can so relate to" meeting. paperworking. computering. emailing. calling. scheduling. " about 10x over per day. I don't even get lunch several days per week b/c of all that. :(
I love your writing style. You rock!
I loved this so much. Yes. I do. feel like I'm drowning. A lot. And then one of my three will slow it all down with not going to sleep or needing something else that makes me stop the rest and then I see that just that one thing will just have to be enough and it's good.
and thank you for that last little part. I really want to know about the legos.
Yes. I feel like I am drowning, or at the very most treading water, and I only have ONE kid. I think our society is a little different than our grandmothers' because we try to place so much more importance on us as individuals, rather than "just mothers". Which is obviously not a bad thing, but it can cause some conflict of interest in the mothering years.
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