My Crazy Train

As my baby's first birthday creeps upon me, I've been finding myself being in denial. Denial that one year has gone by since I sat in that hospital bed and looked at that sweet baby face. Denial that I will never buy baby bottles or newborn diapers again. Denial that in six years I will turn forty(ouch! I totally still feel 23). Denial that my oldest child is about to be one birthday away from turning double digits. Denial that my daughter will no longer wear little girl clothes-she wants bling and cool stuff now.

People told me how much I would love seeing my children grow up. But nobody told me how much it would make my heart hurt! I wanted every milestone to hurry up and happen with my first child so we could celebrate. For my second, I just took it as it came, no rush. With the third, I find myself digging my feet into the ground, grabbing anything I can hold onto, kicking & screaming so that it will not come! It's almost painful to me that G is turning one. Even with the miserable sleepless nights, reflux, sore boobs, sore body, extra fat around my stomach, crying, puking, messes.....there's just not many things in life that can top the euphoria of a newborn baby. I find them intoxicating. I love Baby Magic hair and milk breath. I could smell it every day for the rest of my life and never get tired of it.

The last year has been a really hard year. I don't know how people with more children do it. Kudos to you that have more because it's difficult. Three kids really threw us for a loop! I do think that the non-sleeping and reflux screaming baby did add to the madness that might otherwise could have gone smoother but it is what it is. And I wouldn't trade him for another baby in the world. I feel like a maniac most days. I never have enough time now. I don't have time for me. I'm sick of my mom outfit (tshirt and athletic pants) but don't see any reason for dressing up to pick up the house, wash clothes, make beds, go to the grocery store-I'm not comfortable dressed up at home. I look at other moms and long to look as fashionable and put together as them. But maybe that's not me. I will stay up too long at night and sacrifice being tired the next day just so that I can grab one hour uninterrupted time by. my. self. Kyle doesn't understand my need for self-absorbed silence. It's totally rational and most necessary to my sanity!

I am a different person now than when I taught school. This stay-at-home mothering thing will take you down to the depths of your soul. And then some. No, it's not rocket science, I realize. But it's unlike anything else I have experienced. It's an endurance race for your body, mind, and soul. It's hardcore. It's exhausting. It's humbling to say the least. And there's no money but you work your everlasting rear off. The reward is simple, though. You get to watch your kids grow up right before your eyes. I somedays wonder if I would be a better mom if I worked. Maybe I would be more patient, more understanding. Maybe I wouldn't mind the house being a wreck if I weren't here to look at it all day. I told my mother that I feel like the movie Groundhog Day. I clean, wash, cook, etc. and then I wake up and do it all again and it looks as if I didn't clean or wash a single thing the day before. But on the other hand, isn't having a paying job kinda like Groundhog Day? Get up, get ready, drive to work, work, lunch, work, drive home. Ok, so life is like Groundhog Day unless you travel the world or climb Mt. Everest. I'm finding that the repetition of each day is actually comforting.

I do struggle with the should of, could of, would of, but I am pretty content. On the days that I've cleaned puke up three times(yesterday), changed two diarrhea diapers(yesterday), wiped the kitchen counter for the bazillionth time(yesterday), unloaded the baby out of the carseat 12 times(yesterday), and feel like I'm going to explode from....well, I don't know, but explode from something, then inexplicably G walks four steps towards me, not holding on, or Fin brings me a drawing that she is so proud of. And I think, I'm so glad I'm here with them. I know I will go back to work and it has been a struggle to make ends meet some months(winter), but we will just keep keeping on. That's what Kyle always tells me. On the days that I know I was not a good mom, I just try to wake up the next morning and be blessed that I have another day, a clean slate, and I can try to do a better job today. I've been trying to work on attitude.

And all my feet dragging this past year is because I know that this is just a moment in time. A small fragment of my life. They just don't stay little no matter how much you want to freeze time-believe me, I've tried. They will grow up. And it is gonna happen soon because I was just in Mrs. Blackwell's third grade class about a minute ago. Slade was just a toddler with cotton white hair, Finley had sprigs that stuck straight up that I called piggy tails, and G was dressed in a white, red, & green alligator outfit, barely big enough to sit in the infant carrier on the way home the day before Halloween. Yesterday, I tell you. So please let me apologize in advance of my sentimental, sniffling, crazy mom train I'm about to board next week when my baby turns one.

I look at this little bunch and realize I'm right where I need to be. I am the most blessed person on the planet. I won the lottery. I have all the excitement I can stand. And at the moment, I'm thinking that Mt. Everest is totally overrated.