Doing The Impossible.

Today you’re going to get some raw honesty.

I was talking to another friend of mine who has three small children, one of which is a 2-month-old baby, and she said she wishes that she could just fast-forward through the next three months because she knows they are going to be hell.

YES. Yes. I feel the same way. I literally cannot wait until Christmas, because Pepper will be 6 months old, Asher might be potty-trained, we will all be more rested, and life will be a tiny bit easier.  Hopefully. And, there’s tinsel. I love tinsel.

It might seem sad that I am wishing away my children’s early childhood, but that is exactly what I’m doing. It’s a big blur spotted with enjoyable moments … but mostly it’s a whole lot of crying and tantrums and bottles and shushing. It’s hard. It’s overwhelming. And the thing about parenthood is, you are in it with no way out, so you just have to keep going. 

Yesterday, Asher fell and smacked the back of his head on the coffee table, splitting it wide open. Thankfully, he’s going to be fine. Thankfully, both sets of grandparents were available to step in and help me while Husband was stuck at work. He’s got a few staples in his head, and I have another notch in my motherhood belt. I now know what it’s like to have to stop feeding an infant and leave her screaming for 30 minutes in her bed because one of my older children has a HOLE IN HIS HEAD.

Sometimes, well … a lot of times, it feels like I can’t do this. Probably because I am trying to do semi-impossible things. It’s not easy to grow tiny humans into bigger humans, all while wearing another, tinier human in an Ergo baby carrier. But I CAN do it, and I WILL do it, day by day by ever-loving day, until suddenly they are all in school from 8-3 and I realize I have time and space all to myself again. 

And then, I will miss this. Because mothers have something deeply, chemically wrong with them.
 

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