I really needed to just write something for a change. I'm not gonna lie, this has been a tough week for me. (And I apologize in advance, but, since we just potty trained Emma, bathroom habits are a defining part of our days lately.)
Friday: Taylor and I were chaperones at our church youth conference. Get there about 8am and go with the youth to various activities, classes, speakers, a dance, and a comedy show until 11pm. Walked about 9 miles total.
Saturday: Still chaperoning. Start again at 8am and go all the way until 9pm. Everyone goes home. We pick up the kids--Emma has a fever. Medicine kicks in, she sleeps until 6am.
Sunday: Emma wakes up at 6am, 103 degree fever, more medicine, we all sleep a bit longer. Oops, it's Father's Day-- with the chaos of heading to youth conference (we were filling in really last minute) I didn't get anything and feel like the lamest wife ever. But I did make sure to get his breakfast and dinner requests so I make a yummy breakfast and remind the kids to say, "Happy Father's Day!" We talk to my parents and things are looking okay. When Emma wakes up she's complaining about pain--turns out she's constipated on top of being sick. I stay home with Emma and Luke while Taylor and Will go to church. From about 9am-1pm I carry her to the bathroom about 10 times until she finally decides to go. Then things are a bit better and she sleeps. I take a short nap and Luke wakes up from his. Then the boys get home. Still feeling bad about the lame Father's Day festivities (Taylor kept assuring me that it was fine and that Emma was sick and he was super tired and he just wanted to eat food with his family at home--he's the best, isn't he?) I make dinner, we eat dinner, the kids go to bed. I pass out on the couch at some point and eventually make it to bed.
Monday: Emma's feeling a lot better but still has a high fever (Tylenol saves the day!) so the kids "chill out" (according to Emma) and watch movies all day.
Tuesday: Hooray no fever! Normally I would've had Emma take another rest day but we already had plans with some out-of-town (actually, out-of-the-country-all-the-way-from-Hong-Kong) friends to swim. Emma seemed so much better than the day before so we went for it. Emma decides to get out of the pool, go to the bathroom, change her mind and go back into the pool about 4 times while we're there. I feel like all I've done is change kids, dry kids off, feed kids, walk them to the bathroom, and hold Luke all day long but between all that I got to talk with my friends so it evened out. We get home, I leave to take some family pictures for a friend and I get home just in time for the kids to go to bed. All-in-all not a bad day.
Then...
This day happens...
Wednesday: Emma wakes up at 6am, comes into our room and starts crying. She wants breakfast. "What do you want for breakfast?" "I don't know! I just want breakfast!" More crying. Taylor eventually coaxes her into the kitchen with some cereal and she eats it happily. Afterwards she comes back to my bedside complaining about her stomach hurting. From past experience (this has happened a couple times), I say, groggily, but nicely, "Go potty, you'll feel better." She screams, "I. Don't. WANT TO!!!"
...and goes into full-on tantrum mode. Good morning to me.
After trying to reason, threaten, bribe, persuade, yell, and beg, I finally just stick her on the toilet and tell her to go. She screams at me but eventually she pees, and says, "I feel better!"
No kidding, kid.
I knew she was just cranky from two days of sick and a day of swimming. I knew it, but I didn't care.
Mind you, it's only 6:30 at this point. I've learned that despite my years of high school going to seminary before school (5:50 every day!), I am not a morning person. So if I wake up to a screaming, cranky child (babies don't count for some reason) before 7am there's no guarantee that I'm going to be a good person, let alone a good mom. It might not have been one of my shining moments but I sat there in the bathroom, rolled my eyes, gloated internally, then told Emma to go play and leave me alone so I could back to sleep. Oh yeah, Mom of the Year here.
And that basically set the stage for the rest of our morning. Every single little thing would set Emma off on a tantrum and every single little thing she cried about made me want to go into my room, lock the door, and scream into a pillow.
Until I finally did. Literally. We were set to go to the beach with friends that day and after fighting to get everything and everyone ready and into the car, I buckled them in, turned the car on, went into the house, and screamed into a pillow.
I told my friends when we got to the beach that we had had a rough morning and that we almost didn't even come. But what I didn't tell them was that after I screamed into the pillow I just started sobbing. Alone. On my bedroom floor. Like a child.
I was so overwhelmed by everything. Seemingly trivial things had just piled up on me throughout the week and I was so tired of having to be the mom. Of having to always put others' needs before mine. Of having an eternally messy house, never-ending laundry, a to-do list that would never die and kids that never seemed to like me anymore unless I was giving in to their endless demands. Sure, those are exaggerations, but that's how I felt.
At some point, I pulled myself from the floor to my knees and my sobs turned to pleading. The lessons and speakers from youth conference a few days before came into my head and I knew I needed to pray. I wasn't really asking for anything, but I spoke aloud all of my frustrations and immediately felt a calm. I didn't feel that warm feeling that I normally do when I feel the Spirit, it was just a calm. And I thought of the scripture that says, "Take my yoke upon you, for my yoke is easy and my burden is light." I knew that everything was going to be okay. I also knew that it was still going to be hard but that I wasn't alone. I have a wonderful, amazing husband who helps so much when he's home and I couldn't have asked for a better co-parent for our kids. And when he's not at home, I'm still not alone. Sure, I still have to physically do everything by myself, but when it comes to my needs and my worries and my emotions, I can rely on Jesus Christ. He allows me to put others' needs first because He has already taken care of mine. He has already experienced whatever pain, worry, sorrow, sadness, and frustration that I have felt, do feel, and will feel as a mother. He knows that I'm inadequate, He knows all my weaknesses, and He knows that I've got a long way to go to become the perfect mother. But He knows what that way is and how I can get there! And, honestly, so do I! I just have to live the gospel, do my best, and rely on Him for the rest.
So I got in my car, the kids sat in the back and looked out the windows while we all drove quietly and peacefully to the beach. And, you know what? It was a beautiful beach day. I had a friend who immediately offered to hold Luke while I set up our chairs and umbrellas, we talked, the kids played, I had packed lunch for the kids but not me and another friend offered me some of hers, Taylor got off work early and joined us, the kids didn't have a tantrum when it was time to leave, we got home, I taught a harp lesson, we had a lovely dinner with friends and after the kids went to bed I passed out on the couch at some point (again--it happens a lot) and eventually made it to bed.
I survived another day.
Thursday: We had a much needed rest day. I got the kids the breakfast, turned on a movie, and went back to bed until Luke woke up, which miraculously wasn't until 9am! I did some laundry, the kids watched more movies, I took some pictures, we went to a friend's house after dinner, we came home, and the kids went to bed.
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I just want to remember in the future that the hard weeks will come but that they also will leave. And whether the hard times are coming or going and whether I'm digging my heels in or powering through, everything always turns out okay. And, hey, I must be doing something right because my kids are alive, and well, and happy (well, for the most part--they are still kids).
I'm so grateful for my Heavenly Father. I know that He loves me and looks out for me. And I've seen it this past week.
