The Truth About Mothering…well, let’s see.

Our strong man!

 Last week in the Daily Dubbe I gave a snapshot update on
each member of our family. Towards the end of the post I realized I hadn’t
really shared much about me. It’s much easier to focus on everyone else in our
little family then to actually have to break down my own self.
 
So here it is, the truth about mothering- my mothering to be
exact. I’m completely, 100% exhausted. I’ve worked hard jobs before, and I’ve
been tired on a regular basis in the past, but this type of exhaustion is
unique. Even when I worked at Starbucks, the hours I worked ranged from getting
up at 4am, to leaving work at 1am. Back then I was able to carry two gallons of
milk in each hand and walk a good distance. Back then caffeine was on my side,
but caffeine doesn’t cut it anymore. I could drink a cup of coffee and fall flat
on my face on the couch if given a nap opportunity now.

Here’s just one thing that makes mothering so so so so hard. The
fussing. The constant fussing. They want up so they cling to my legs or push me
with all their might until I trip over their little selves. They pull at my
shirt or pants until I am able to scoop them up, only to hear the fussing
continue because they want back down. Meanwhile the sibling is fussing and
wining about his or her own issue.

The other day both kids woke up from
their naps at precisely the same moment. They were both wailing, they both
wanted me to hold them, but neither of them wanted me holding the other one. So
the wailing continued. I hoisted both (wailing) children down the stairs
(that’s 60 pounds, thank you very much) and made it to the couch only to have
them wail even louder because heaven forbid Mama sit down while holding them.
They both fussed for the next two hours until Chuck finally arrived home. Two
hours of fussing. Toddlers 2, Mama 0.

Fellow Mama’s, can I get an AMEN?
It’s HARD. My back aches. My thighs are actually shaking today from carrying
both kids and diaper bags and groceries up and down the stairs. Last night my leg hurt
so bad I had to take Ibuprofen. My chest has a pulled muscle that isn’t healing
because I’m constantly picking up and putting down 60 pounds of adorable! And
my neck! The list could go on, but I digress.

I don’t know about you, but I want
to scream every time someone says, “The days are long, but the years are short!”
or “The years are going to fly by, you’ll see!” or “You’ll look back on this
time and wish you could be there again!” I may miss certain aspects of my
children being babies, and the certain delights that only come from this phase,
but I probably won’t wish to return. That’s not who I am. I’ve
never looked back on a phase of life and wished I could return.

I couldn’t tell who the guilty party was. But the little truck in the corner certainly enjoyed driving through it. Didn’t like this dressing anyway. 😉

What I am striving for is to live
in joy TODAY. And each day. And each new phase. Joy in Jesus. Joy is a tough bugger, one that
I will tackle next week, but for this day- I just want you Mama’s to rest
assured, you’re not alone. I am here looking a toddler in the face while I tell
them, “Do not cross that line” only to watch them slide their little foot
straight across that line with no intent of obeying. I am here holding a child
who wails every time Papa leaves for work, or even just leaves the room, and
can’t squirm out of my arms fast enough to run after him, leaving me in their
dust. I am here attempting to keep my babies from jumping out the windows,
climbing on the kitchen table, scaling the bathroom linen closet, opening the
350 degree oven, flipping their bolted-to-the-wall beds up-side-down, and oh!
Have I mentioned from having to call Poison Control again? Ladies you are not
alone!

If you’re like me, I can’t
function in a healthy way if there are dishes stacked up on the counter, if
there are toys scattered all over the living room, if the beds are trashed, if
there’s trash over-flowing onto the floor, or if the kids are still wearing
their PJ’s at noon. Being orderly helps keep me sane. Another Mama may not even
notice last night’s dishes are still in the sink because she is surviving by
getting out of the house, and taking the kids to the library. (I’ve done that
once. And I’m done, thank you.)

All Mama’s are so different! And
Jesus has made us all absolutely perfect for our own babes.

One way for a toddler to tire themselves out is to remove the entirety of the stuffing from their huge stuffed puppy…Puppy is now quite skinny. 😉

Next week we’ll tackle the joy-bugger. In the meantime, any thoughts out there on the topic of finding joy in mothering during those oh-so-TOUGH moments? Would be thrilled to hear your thoughts, and your experiences of choosing joy!