About Perspective, And Why It Still Sucked

The last two days have kicked my trash.  

Monday and Tuesday have been the school-yard bullies of my week and man, they've been relentless. 

I started my fourth week of full time work, solidly proving that I am meant to be a stay-at-home mom. 

And then my Austin split his perfect Austin forehead on the tailgate of a neighbors truck and the blood and chaos that ensued hammered me.  His sweet face literally gushing blood; me screaming for my mother to get my van; running faster than ever before to get to my man; Hannah scared to death at the sight of her baby brother covered in blood.  Waiting in the ER.  A slice into his forehead that went clear to the bone.  Internal and external stitches done to the sound of my babe screaming, telling me over and over "it's super scary mama!"

My heart breaking.  

I'm the idiot who let him on his scooter without a helmet.  

HUGE mother fail. 

Then today, after a sleepless night of worry, up and down checking on Austin, I took Spence to the orthodontist where he, wait for it, swallowed a metal pole.  Like an inch and a half long metal pole that  is supposed to be attached to his Herbst at the moment instead of swimming in his intestines.  At least that's where we hope it is.  His amazing orthodontist insisted on an x-ray to be sure it was swallowed and not inhaled.  An x-ray that is to be billed to his office.  An orthodontist who literally stopped his day to attend to Spence, calling my cell phone for updates and making sure all was well.  If you're local and jacked teeth run in your family, you must go see him.  I've never had better patient care.  EVER.  

But between the blood and the stitches and the x-ray, I have ended up battered and bruised.  The marks of worry and guilt have taken over and I feel every bit of being the mother of four.  I'm exhausted, physically and emotionally and can't wait for the calm weekend ahead.  Saturday and Sunday, I'm talking to you: you're going to be chill, right? 

The last two days could have been so much worse.  I totally get that.  But my little brood of six could use a break.  Especially the Mama.

 And the Austin.  

And the Spence.

Agreed? 

Christmas in February

I'm not sure how it came to be the middle of February.   I really can't believe that it's the middle of February and I haven't yet shared the sweetest part of our Christmas.  And even though enough time has lapsed that I should just file it to memory and not bore you with the details, this one is too good to not write down.  

It went like this. 

My whole family gathered together for the first time since my parent's divorce.  

Our four sweet children enjoying having their cousins and grandparents here more than the presents before them.  

Shared smiles and laughter among the adults, soaking in a beautiful Christmas.  

One teary little Sienna, so happy about what she found under the tree but sad that Santa didn't bring her the thing she has wanted most, a Nintendo DS, for the second year in a row. 

One amazing older brother, who noticed the quivering in Sienna's voice and quickly dashed upstairs to his room, to find his DS and place it in a box, writing in his perfectly imperfect writing "To Sienna, Love Santa."  

"Look Sienna, I found this from Santa upstairs,"  he said.  

One crying dad + one crying mom.  A boy who understands.  It's the giving, not the receiving.  

A hidden present behind the couch addressed to all four kids, where four brand new Nintendo 3DS were found. 

************

Even now, when someone brings it up, Brad and I find ourselves in tears.  The sweet spirit that Spencer showed that morning knocked our socks off.  His maturity and desire to grant his little sister her Christmas wish was overwhelming.  To know that he gets it, even though in all fairness he's pretty much always gotten it, was reaffirming to Brad and I that in between the bickering and tattling, it's soaking in.  The good parts of life.  The stuff to focus on.  What's really important.  That the greatest joy in life comes from making others feel loved. 

Spence gets it.  And his example is teaching his siblings.  And his parents.  

We've always managed to have amazing Christmas mornings.  Through sick kids and absent family members, we've always made the best of it. 

But this Christmas.

It was magical. 

I know that mountain of presents is excessive, but there were 12 of us here 

Christmas morning, and three of those are bikes!

Mentally Better, Physically Worse

Thanks for your kind words regarding my last post.  We are still navigating our way around these parts but talking about it feels better.  And even though it seems like changes are coming at us full speed, one thing remains the same. 

I love my kids fiercely.  Wholly, unconditionally, completely.

And the man who stands by my side through it all?  Well, there's nothing better.  At least not for me. 

One of my goals this year was to visit this space much more frequently and while I seem to be failing miserably, I've had good excuses. 

Like starting a five-week sub job at the high school.  The longest job I've taken since having my babes.  It came as just the right time and will really help us with some big plans we have coming up ( more on that later.)  Luckily, friends and family have stepped in to help with the kiddos until Grandma arrives.  And I spend my days testing away with this girl.   I'm so thankful. 

And I've been planning a shindig with this girl that will hopefully go off tonight without a hitch.  I'm excited.  Not as many to cook for as last time but I will still spend today in my kitchen. 

And finally, to make it all extra fun, the stress that I carry around in my neck and shoulders decided to seize up on me and I can barely move my left side.  The good news?  It's MUCH better than yesterday.  The bad news?  It still hurts something fierce.  Luckily, my good friend ibuprofen will get me through the day.

Enjoy your weekend friends.  Love a little extra on all those sweet souls roaming around your house in the days ahead.  Valentine's Day is right around the corner!

The Post That Makes You Feel So Much Better About Yourself

You know how sometimes you stumble upon a blog post and find yourself thinking "Man! She's a much better mother than me." And you notice that she is taller/shorter/thinner/prettier than you and her house is bigger/better/cleaner/nicer than yours and that she cooks/crafts/writes/decorates better than you and if that wasn't enough, you look at her beautifully photographed children playing together or baking together or reading books together and you find yourself shrinking a bit?

This is not one of those posts.  

This post is about how gut-wrenchingly hard it is to be a mom.  How there are minutes, hours, days when you want to scream your head off and lock your kids out of your house.  How you find yourself begging for three minutes of peace and making deals with just about anyone to give it to you.  How you completely lose your cool when you get interrupted, again, by the third of four children while you're trying to pee. The exhaustible inertia of trying to keep your head above water while someone stands above pouring water on your head. 

I feel like I've been in the trenches lately.  The trenches of mothering strong personalities and kids who oftentimes feel they know better than me.  I find myself with my hands held high above my head in the international sign of  I SURRENDER but no one yells out GAME OVER to save me.  This stuff is hard.  Hard to understand.  Hard to talk through.  Really, all-encompassing, hard. I've lost my footing a bit in how to mother these children who are changing before my eyes.  Growing up means new issues, new consequences, new problems and while we have yet to face anything that we can't handle, I can feel it lurking.  Like something is watching, waiting for me to lose my balance so it can show up and knock me off my feet completely.  I feel like I'm having to work harder than ever before to try and get it right and not just right in the moment, but right in the long term.  That the things I'm trying to teach my kids will resonate with them for a lifetime so that some of these issues won't show up again.  Or if they do, that they'll be prepared to deal with them.  And looking at it that way is daunting. 

I find myself exhausted at the end of the day.  Like that I've-been-up-all-night-with-a-newborn exhausted.  

I find myself watching the clock for bedtime.  

I find myself saying the same things over and over and over.  And over. 

My fuse is shorter than normal and I keep looking around wondering where I went.  That mother who was here before.  The one with patience and understanding.  Who loved the sound of her children's voices above all else.  Who knew that even though this path is rocky, it's absolutely the right one to be on.  Who found joy in the small things and loved nothing more than being a mom. 

I know she's in here.  I know she'll be back soon. But right now, what's she's doing is hard. 

Trying to find her, while hiding out in my van. 

In my bathrobe.