Forgive my semi-absence from the mom-blog scene; I’ve been momming so hard for the past 6 months and don’t look to be slowing down anytime soon.
These kids occupy very breath of my waking hours, and when I do sleep, they tromp through my dreams in muddy shoes. I’m trying to maintain perspective here, though, that even through the exhaustion and the messes, what a blessing these unique little souls are to me; and how many women would give everything to be in my shoes (72 hours of unwashed hair, covered in spit-up on the couch, kids shrieking gleefully and running around at light speed, house exploding behind me).
These days are BAH-nanas, and I would not trade a second of them. Lucy is the world’s most chill baby. I could have three hundred more just like her; so serious am I that, although another ass-kicking high-risk pregnancy is not preferable, I would consider alternative paths to an even bigger family if it weren’t actually insane.
I love this pace but it’s been a bit of a struggle for me in this particular season to set limits for myself. Because I have done did battle with depression and anxiety for oh, 12 years now, saying “no” is not an art; it is an absolute survival tactic. I have people all around me who are brimming with volunteerism and doing all manner of God’s work and miraculously they still function–effectively–at home (or at least, I think they do). Sometimes I imagine those people look at me and think “Really? She can’t do this one little thing? She’s not the only person to ever have kids, geez.”
And those imaginary comments from imaginary people just about drive me to drink–just about. And then I calm down and my husband reminds me and I remind myself that I’m a better mother when I can just mother. I know that’s not the way everyone does it, but if I don’t want to brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack or throw my kids through a wall, that’s the way I have to do it.
Me and my non-multitasking, one-track-minded, ever-the-alcoholic mom brain. I cannot have it all, I do not want it all–but I absolutely must be good at this.
The world hasn’t exploded since I stopped doing all the things, but those at house Toni would probably tell you their world is a smoother, better, calmer place, where fun times abound and little glimmers of patience exist…little bitty glimmers of patience exist where they wouldn’t have existed before. Jesus is shared. Dinners are served. Appointments are kept. All drywall is intact.
This life is a good life.