its all hard

I vividly remember being about four months pregnant with my first child when I read somewhere about how common it was for women to poop while in the pushing phase of labor.  

I was appalled.

How come I had never heard this!?  How could a girl grow into a woman, sit through many a sex-ed class (even the weird one in church where we had to watch a video of a woman giving birth with full 70's bush), get married, and become pregnant and not find out this vital piece of information.  I mean come on now.  You want to talk about birth control... how about we tell teenage girls that if they get pregnant there is a good possibility of pooping in front of your doctor and baby daddy while in the midst of one of the most painful experiences of your life.  Oh and there's loads of other fluids too.  I guarantee you that those teenagers would be extra careful about using protection.  

But there I was, already pregnant...no going back now.  I dealt with it.  I got though my birth (thats a whole different story) and came out the other side with a beautiful daughter and I wouldn't change a thing.  That being said, I really wish that I had known about the whole pooping issue before I got knocked up.  Some things are just easier to deal with when you are good and prepared for them. But it seems like some of the more low down and dirty parts about child rearing are some of the parts that no one seems to want to talk about.

Over the last couple of years I've had a lot of run ins with one of those other parts of parenting that no one seems to talk about.

The fact that it doesn't get any easier. 

When my kids were babies it was so hard.  My nights were sleepless and my days were filled with pee and poop and vomit.  I would get so tired of being physically touched all day that by the time my husband came home, I handed the baby over and couldn't even give him a hug, simply because I was so desperate for my body to be MINE.  Keeping my children, marriage, and myself happy and heathy was just SO hard.

When my kids were toddlers it was so hard.  I was getting more sleep, but the days were even busier. I could no longer lay them in their swing to put that load of clothes away, or take a shower.  There were no longer the long stretches of sitting in a rocking chair nursing and snuggling.  Sure, naps were now a little more scheduled, but when the kids were up they wanted to be busy all the time.  It hadn't gotten any easier, or any harder.  It had just gotten different.

My youngest is in elementary school and it is so hard.  Sure he is going to school during the day, but somehow the hours while he is at school fly by with household tasks and errands...and you can forget about that if you are trying to work as well.  And the evenings are filled with after school activities. Between school, activities, meals and trying to get the kids to bed at a decent hour it is SO hard.  He is so great and can do so much to help take care of himself, but he is still little and needs so much help.  It doesn't get any easier, it's just different.

Now my oldest is in middle school.  It's so hard.  She's old enough to be home by herself for short periods of time, and even help take care of her younger brother.  She can even cook a basic meal.  In many ways things have gotten easier.  I rarely have a sleepless night, and I would LOVE to have a few more cuddles from my kids.  But now there is tween-age drama, constant activities, typical attitude and the age old struggle to find independence.  It is SO hard.  But have things gotten harder?  No.  They have just gotten different.  

And I worry about what is to come, about the stages we haven't hit yet.  

I will admit that it gets under my skin a little (okay, maybe a lot) when I hear moms who have children that are younger than mine talk about how they know things will only get easier.  Guess what? It doesn't.  And I hear it a lot.  

So I try to be honest...without being harsh.

Kind of like pooping on the delivery table, I want women to know what they are up against. Wouldn't it benefit everyone if we were honest about how hard it is to be a mom...or a dad?  Wouldn't it be better if we were all honest about what it's really like.  Why do we have to 'one up' each other with how hard we have it? 

Recently I saw on social media a woman who wrote about her experiance in an airport while she was traveling with her small children.  She got to chatting up an older woman about how hard it is.  How hard it is to be a good mom.  How hard it is to try and do it all (key word: try).   About how hard it is when they are little.  About how it will get easier.  The older woman's response was kind but honest. To sum it up: you just wait. While not the most supportive route to take I do appreciate her honesty. It doesn't get any easier.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I hope that as moms we can stop looking at each other and thinking about how much easier everyone else has it.  Its rough.  No matter where you are at.  

As a friend I will commiserate with you.  I will cry with you.  I will hug you and bring you wine.  I will do whatever I can to help you get through whatever stage you are at.  I promise not to look at you and assume that the place I'm at is any harder than where you are, but please do me the same favor. Don't assume that I have it easier just because my kids are older.

So lets get this shit out in the open right now.  It is hard.  It is all hard.  It doesn't get easier, it just gets different.

one of 'those' kids

When I was growing up there were always one or two of those kids, you know the kind, the kind that made it all look easy.  They didn't seem to have to try to get great grades.  They picked up every sport they tried without effort.  They always looked good and seemed to have endless supplies of confidence (even during puberty...yikes).  They always seemed to have something witty to say and were able to flow in and out of social settings with ease.  While I'm sure that not all was as rosy as it looked from the outside, it was quite a sight to behold as a child.

Well, now here I am, with children of my own.  Who would have thought...I have one of those kids.

Where did he get this level of awesome?  I have no idea.  Clearly not from me or his dad.

And now that I live with one of 'those kids' every day, I can attest to the fact that it is not all rosy.

School is too easy, we worry about boredom and have met with teachers to try to increase the challenge for him.  I (as a preschool teacher myself) can totally understand the difficulty of trying to challenge one child more, while still teaching a whole classroom.  At this point, we haven't found a solution to keep him challenged in school.  So, as his mom, I worry about boredom.  I worry that at some point he will 'check out' or stop trying.

Sports come naturally, but there is always someone better, someone stronger, someone faster.  When you become accustomed to winning, it can be a hard pill to swallow when you actually lose (which we all do).

Being the life of the party comes with its own set of expectations and responsibilities.  When you are a child it can be difficult to cope with this.  Too many friends knocking on the door to play.  Too many invites and playdates.  And once adolescence comes, you just hope your child will use this strange power for good instead of evil.

Even the big kids want to hang out with him.  I'm not sure this one needs a whole lot more explanation.

Maybe this sounds like a lot of blubbering about first world problems.
 
"Oh shit, my son is too cool!"

And maybe it is.  But I've seen the other side too.  I've been with the chid who cries because they just don't understand the homework.  Talked them through kids being mean, and hurtful, for stupid reasons.  Wiped the tears when the birthday party invite didn't come.

And I can't say that one is easier than the other.  They are just different.

And often times, both leave me wondering what I should do...

relish in the memories

Today I am going to relish in some memories.

Given that its throwback Thursday and my Instagram feed is filled with peoples memories, it's no wonder that I'm thinking about some of mine.

Just a few weeks ago, my family and I went on a fantastic mini-vacation.  It was one that I'd looked forward to for quite some time, and it was just as magical as I had hoped.  We went to Moab and spent the better part of the week exploring Arches and  Canyonlands National Parks.  We found little places to eat that we loved, and vowed we would go back to.  I watched my daughter be brave and my son be free to explore.  Even the car ride was something I look back on and smile.  Long hours in the car with your family should be part of every childhood.  We made memories.  So many memories.   

On the way home my husband and I talked about all the other places we want to explore,  the road trips we want to take the kids on, and the memories we want to make.   I think we started planning the next three (at least) vacations.  When I got home, I started Pinterest boards for these future trips and googling important stops to make along the way.  I am really looking forward to the next one.

But, as I sit and scroll through the feed of memories, I am beginning to think that I'm spending far too much time planning the making of memories, rather than enjoying the memories I have already made.  

How often do I sit and think about the places we have already been, and the things we've already seen.    I still have albums full of vacation pictures that have never been printed.  Mementos from trips that have never been framed.  

I spend way too much time thinking about the places I long to go rather than being amazed at the places I have already been.  

In a world that is full of 'keeping up with the Jonses', it's hard not to look at the amazing things others have experienced and not feel some level of envy.  I want to see those things too.  I want to make those memories too.  But the reality is, that with a world as big as the one we live in, we will never see it all.  We will never go to all the places on our lists, or see all the things that we wish we could...and thats okay.  That's part of what makes the human experiance so great, there will always be the unknown.  

So instead of spending all my free time thinking, and planning, where to go next, I vow to spend some more of that time relishing in the places I have already been, the experiences I have already had, and the memories I have already made.  

Because they were pretty rad.

friday morning yoga

  Today when I picked Sweet Boy up from school he seemed a little down.  He wasn't chatty in the car like he usually is, and he wasn't (as) full of hugs and kisses at seeing me.  When I pressed him about what was bothering him his response was something like this:

"Mom, I've been thinking about this and I've decided that I want you to quit your Friday yoga."

Ugg...here we go again.

You see, Little Man and I have a pretty special relationship.  I like to summarize it by saying that we share a soul.  He is just like me in so many ways, and I've always though of us as a bit of a pair. Need a hiking buddy? I know I can count on him.  Want to run a muddy 5k? He'll be right by my side.  Feeling like last minute car camping,  a handstand contest, or an overly ambitious adventure?  He's my partner in crime.   I've loved this closeness.  But lately I'm wondering if it's causing some problems.

You see, he wants me to be around, be available for hugs, kisses, and last minute pb&j's ALL THE TIME.  He struggles with me going to work in the morning.  Often Sunday evenings leave him in tears with the approaching separation.    There have been more early morning tears, and requests to immediately quit my job, than I'm comfortable admitting.

And the truth is he already has it pretty good.  Although I only see him long enough in the morning for a quick kiss goodbye (Dad has been on full morning duties for 4 years), and sick days are always a struggle and a source of guilt, I am there almost every day after school for pick up.  I'm the homework helper, the lunch maker, and the evening snuggler.  Im there to tuck him in and kiss his sweet cheeks every night.  I'm at every gymnastics meet and every doctors visit.  But the kid wants MORE...

A few weeks ago I started taking and early morning yoga class on Fridays.  He misses his morning kisses, but because of this early morning workout I get to watch part of his gymnastics practice and take him home from practice on Fridays.  It means more time together.   But all Little Man sees is that he doesn't get his morning kisses.  I tried explaining this, tried telling him that I work out Friday morning so that I don't have to go to the gym on Friday evening and we get to be together more.  His response was a lot of bumbling about how I workout enough and I should just skip Fridays.

Little does he know that I'm prone to become an angry Rage-Monster if I don't get my workout in.

So there I am, sitting in the car with my favorite 8 year old, trying to explain to him why I will not be giving up my Friday morning yoga.  Why it's a good thing for me, and really a good thing for him too.  I may as well have been explaining the chemical makeup of rocket fuel.  Instead of trying to talk him through it and expect him to understand what is a very grown up concept, I guess I'm just going to continue what I'm doing.  Going to yoga, wiping tears, and reminding him that I love him.

Being a mom is all about balance.  Trying to find the right balance of giving your children too much vs not enough attention.  Trying to find the right balance of 'me' time and 'mom' time.   The balance of not enough vs too much coffee (okay, maybe that one's just me).  It seems the moment that I start to feel that balance in my life, the universe shifts just a little and throws me off.  A constant reminder that the universe has a plan and I'm not actually the one in charge.