I realize, with some misgivings, that this isn't a blog for polished thoughts. When I have time to polish things like my thoughts, I will launch a new blog where I can market myself as a writer and further my writing career. But presently, I am unable to polish off anything except my children's Halloween candy, so I will continue to post rantings, musings, and journal entries from my hectic life as a mom of 3 littles. I hope someone out there on the interweb will benefit from reading my blog but mostly it's just a relief to get things off my chest.
That being said, I had a breakdown today. I had two or three mini breakdowns this week but today was the actual breaking point. Today I said "enough is enough! I'm outta here!" I wanted to drive away and never return. Luckily my husband was home and it was nap time for the kiddos so I could actually drive away, by myself, in our sporty little car, I didn't even have to take the minivan.
So, here I am, newly liberated from my very demanding little family, and all I can think about is how much I hate being a mom and staying home all the time. I should clarify: I hate the wiping noses, whining toddlers, picky eaters, poopy blowouts, kind of mom stuff. But doesn't everybody? A dear friend recently pointed out that she definitely doesn't like everything about being a mom. This was a revelation to me. I felt guilty any time I didn't just jump for joy at the most mundane things about motherhood like diapers and tantrums and yoga pants and pony tails. She helped me realize being a mom is often a hard, thankless, job and it's ok to admit it. Sunday nights when I whine to my husband about not wanting to spend another entire week with our brood, he admits he wouldn't want to be with them all day either and he's so glad I stick it out.
So sometimes I hate being a mom, not all the time, not even most of the time, but sometimes. Other times I am so grateful that I get to mother these three beautiful beings and I thank my Father in Heaven for giving me the opportunity to grow and become better and lead and guide these young people. I promise to blog more about that some other time. But now, I need to relate how difficult motherhood can be for me.
Soon after my second baby was born, I was ranting and raving to a friend about how hard motherhood is and how demanding my kids are, I paused to reassure her that I really do love my kids, despite the challenge of caring for them. "I know" was all she said. She knew I love my kids because I do take care of them, day in and day out, sometimes 24 hours a day and 7 days a week. Of course we love our kids, they can be adorable and ingenious and silly and fun and energetic and so blissfully happy! I think we often see this side of motherhood in perfect family pictures, on Pinterest, Facebook and on many other mommy blogs. And that is one of the many reasons I started this blog; not only did I want to give myself a voice, to be heard, and to practice my writing, but I also wanted to put it out there that motherhood isn't all kissing chubby cheeks and singing lullabies, and I want others to know they are not alone when they struggle fulfilling their roles as parents.
I believe families have eternal significance and that no other work I perform in my entire life will compare to the impact I will have on my family. I have been taught these truths my whole life. What I didn't realize until I actually had a child and now even more so with three of them, is that motherhood will most likely be the biggest challenge of my life as well. It's probably a good thing I learned about the importance of the role of a parent before I learned about how intensely trying it can be otherwise, I don't know that I would have signed up.
After we had our first baby, Tim and I marveled at how and why people ever had more than one. It'd be like jumping into freezing cold water when you have no idea how to swim and just when you start to figure out how to keep from drowning, someone hands you a baby.
Sometimes I wonder if I'm just a wimp. Compared to my mother, my grandmother, my great grandmother, I have so many modern conveniences; dishwashers, clothes washers, a car of my own, grocery stores, a steady income. I used to feel so guilty that I struggled with motherhood so intensely when I seemed to have it so much easier than others do.
After some contemplation, I have come to believe that every person born on earth has unique struggles. Challenges that are choreographed and individualized especially for them by a loving Heavenly Father who knew and continues to know exactly what we need to experience in this mortal life in order to grow, to become more, to achieve what it is we came here to do, become like God. To overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles physical, emotional, spiritual, all obstacles. But I also know that I cannot do it alone. I need a Savior. Someone to save me from myself, someone to "comfort me when faint." Someone to make up the difference when I just can't do it anymore. I love my Savior Jesus Christ and I know He sends angels to buoy me up during difficult times. Most times my angels are friends, family members and occasionally even strangers but I know they come to me from my Savior to life me up and help me be more so I can raise these sweet babes.
So I started out with the intention of decrying my frustratingly ineffective parenting skills, and I ended up bearing my testimony of Jesus Christ, how's that for roughewn?
