From Where I Stand

Honesty is the best policy, right? Well, maybe not all the time but in blogs, it’s probably important. Facebook can be convoluted. A good friend of mine pointed out that Facebook is like marketing for your life. I’ve been told that my Facebook life looks pretty darn fantastic and hilarious. While it is both of those, very much both of those, I must admit…..I’m overwhelmed. But, since you can’t see me wearing the same pajamas all day every day; since you have no idea that a thick layer of dust coats my dresser; since you don’t watch me having corn pops and wine for dinner; and since you can’t possibly know that most days I don’t wear makeup let alone shower, I have to tell you here. This is A LOT of work.


Life hasn’t always been this exhausting. I fondly remember back to our carefree honeymoon, when parenthood was 11 short months away. We lay by the pool all day long for a week, eating nothing but the fruit that came skewered on paper umbrellas atop the constant flow of tropical drinks. I remember laying on my chaise lounge, lathered in spf 4, and as our cabana boy stepped away from taking our orders, I saw them across the pool, a young, uninteresting couple and their chubby baby girl. The baby splashed and giggled in the shallow end while her parents beamed and I stared. I wanted that so badly. I couldn’t wait to start a family. I couldn’t wait to stand over my child(ren) and marvel at every move they made. Now, 3 years later, I have these beautiful, engaging, good natured babies. But, it’s a lot less glamorous than I anticipated. I have the kids, I just don’t have the all-inclusive resort pool, in the middle of paradise, to splash with them in.

It’s hard, who knew? I didn’t. Even this blog won’t prove to those who haven’t had children yet how difficult it becomes, day in and day out. It’s lonely, even though you’re with the ones you love every second of the day. It’s thankless and rewarding at the same time. It’s thrilling one second and it beats you down the next. Some parts of my day, while Grace screams for more stickers, Tyler wails for a bottle, Eddie dances at the door to be let out and every single pile of clutter in my house stares at me with judging eyes, I have to just stand there. I stand so still as not to jostle the tears out of my eyes. I hold my breath and promise myself that in 10 minutes, all of this will be over. That’s the thing with kids, problems are monumental and urgent but the solutions are quick and easy. Some days I am 10 steps ahead of the game and my kids have what they need before they need it. Those days, the kitchen is spotless before 9am, dinner is prepared by 4pm and my husband gets up early to give Grace piggyback rides around the house while I coo at Ty. They are days filled with sunshine and pride. My arm gets sore from patting myself on the back so much. The days in between those are tremendous. The house never gets clean and the mess suffocates me. I choke on the clutter and dust. The kids don’t nap, they bicker for my attention, the screaming, the throwing, the crying, the starving, the neediness! I can’t leave the house because one is napping, or the other needs to eat. Or sometimes, I refuse to leave the house because I feel like it’s not worth the trouble. The coming and going is a lot of work and most of the time the reward of being out of the house doesn’t seem as sweet as staying in and not having to work so hard just to get in the car. No, my plate is not full. I don’t even have a plate anymore. It’s all piled in my lap and it’s HEAVY. I try so hard to grow extra arms, to force more hours in the day, to have more patience.

I don’t have much to complain about. I have it all. A hard working, considerate and loving husband who gives us financial stability. He is the father I always wanted to marry. His love for us is obvious and palpable. My toddler, who is beyond hilarious, keeps me on my toes with how smart she is and I’m consistently taken with her beauty. And my baby! He’s so happy he smiles at the microwave. He could take anyone’s bad mood and squash it with his full body smile. I know there is devastation out there. I have close friends who have tasted loss in ways I could never imagine. I’m not wishing things were different, or complaining for attention. I’m just saying that sometimes my blessings overwhelm me. I’ve threatened to toss Tyler out the window many times now. Of course they are empty threats and they only come when I’ve had no sleep but I wonder….is big brother watching? I picture CPS being notified of my hot tempered words and sending service workers to watch my house. I can imagine their conversations, “I think today is the day. Did you see when the little girl colored on the floor and walls again, that Mrs. McHale threw that basket of crayons across the room? She’s losing it, tonight we wait.” And they post service worker’s with open arms at each of my windows, waiting for Tyler to come flying out one of them. For a good baby, he sure does give me the run around sometimes.

Toddlers are their own creatures. I am constantly teaching. Language, safety, proper ways to express ourselves, cleanliness, counting, manners, animals, colors, the difference between strangers and adults we should trust, proper nutrition, the list goes on. Things you never realized had to be taught. And I can tell you with 100% honesty, I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing. I’m forming human beings and I haven’t a clue how to do it! And, two is hard. Having to choose one over the other can be a strain on your heart. Telling Grace she needs to wait to read a book because Tyler needs to go down for a nap stabs my heart. Making lunch for Grace and hearing Tyler scream for a bottle pulls tears from deep in my eyes. There aren’t many times where there is enough of me to go around.

And that’s me. I gotta be honest. I can’t pretend that my life is one perfect picture after another, one hilarious status over and over. I feel broken some days and whole the next. And, over time, I’ve realized that it is possible to feel thankful and frustrated in the same moment. It is possible, at times, to give love with no patience. I take a step back and understand that the good wouldn’t feel so good without all that clutter and screaming around it. And when all else fails, Ingrid Michaelson pops into my head and I sing, “All that I know is I’m….. breathing. All I can do is keep…. breathing…..”