Buffalo Gals

We had a handyman come out to the house once to look at our downstairs lights. It seemed like there was always at least one bulb in our light fixtures that was always out, no matter how often we replaced our lightbulbs. I was tired of feeling like a cave dweller in half-lit rooms and was sure it was some wonky wiring job that needed to be fixed.

The handyman looked at our fixtures after having the problem explained to him and said "Where are your kids' rooms in relation to the lights that keep going out?" Puzzled, we answered directly above them. He said that was our problem. Our girls are so dang rambunctious that their constant jumping, stomping and horse-playing was breaking the filaments in our lights.

And people say it's the boys that are rough on things.

I just sent the girls upstairs to get jammies on and teeth brushed...it literally sounds like a herd of wild buffalo are running recklessly through the halls; stomping, jumping, yelling and loud-talking. On nights where Justin is gone, like tonight and what seems like so many other nights, where I am running this ship all alone while buffalo gals run amok, I get tired at the sheer responsibility that my life requires of me. But then I can't help but think that it will all be over before I am ready for it to be. When responsibility will wane and these halls and stairs will grow quiet. When lightbulbs will glow, undamaged by the ruckus and I will wish for the days that the sands of time didn't slip between my tired hands.

So tonight, I will grasp this moment. I will gather my fading energy. I will muster another push of patience and I will go hug and kiss my wild, rambunctious, wonderful, little herd of buffalo gals.

Project 365 {2013} - Day 301

 Today on the way home from school Lauryn wanted to get out of the van and run home again. I love her eagerness, so I consented. This time though, Devy, not content to stay in the confines of her carseat, begged to run too. So the side door flew open and we turned them loose at the front of the neighborhood and off they went! Maryn hung out the van window, taking pictures of Devy as she raced behind Lauryn, chugging her little legs all the way home! It's these little moments when I just feel I could not love the little lives I have been given to mother any more than I already do!

Crowded Flights and Crying Babies

I am sitting on a plane right now, flying solo, in a crowded cabin of people. Across the aisle a mother comforts her crying baby and I thought, amongst people’s annoyed shifts in their body language, what a beautiful sound it is.

My four babies are at home. I should be enjoying this time without having to consider another person’s feelings, wants or needs. But all I really want to do is to scoop that baby up and offer her mother a break. I wouldn’t of course, because even if the nicest stranger would have offered that to me at that phase of my life I would have thought them a crazy person. But still, it would make me happy.

It made me reflect on my own girls though and the path I have traveled in my own journey as a mom over this past decade. How in that moment, when it was me on that plane with the tiny, inconsolable baby, how I was so weighed down with stress and worry. “Was I ruining everyone else’s flight?” Feeling helpless at not knowing how to make a situation better that affected everyone around me. Now I wish I could tell that mom across the aisle that I think it is a beautiful sound. That I am thankful to see a mother’s work at work.

In a world where it seems like most strangers you meet seem to be keenly concerned with their own selfish thoughts, wants and needs, seeing a mother in action is a breath of fresh air. With every shush and rocking, a breath of effort is made on someone else's behalf. Putting aside your own comforts and interests for someone else, especially for someone as innocently demanding as a baby, is a beautiful thing.

As Justin and I drove past our old exit on the freeway on the way to the airport we reflected on how different our life was then, when we lived off that old lane of memories. We had no children. Our schedules were our own. Our money, however little it was, was our own. We chuckled about how different our lives are now. My life, my schedule, my efforts, my money, everything, is often about everyone but me…and that is okay. Surrendering to motherhood and the process of being able to truly serve others every day has brought me more joy that any other inwardly focused motivation.

Let’s not kid ourselves though. Being a mom is the hardest, most stressful, nerve-wracking, guilt-inducing, labor-intensive thing I have ever done. But it is so, so good. Elevated by all the intangibles that you can never quite put your finger on, but that make the process so dang fulfilling.

I firmly believe that it is important to take care of ourselves. To not forget who we are and remember to put ourselves on the map of our own life. But, my girls have taught me that while we so often we think the pursuit to happiness is paved by solely taking care of ourselves, true joy is found in nurturing others. 

So I find myself grateful as I sit wedged, elbows tucked and sore-bummed on this stale-aired flight for that crying baby and her momma’s testament to the potential for goodness within each one of us.

Motherhood

I decided just now, sitting waist-high in piles of laundry needing to be folded, that motherhood is good for me. It seems crazy and most days I feel spread so thin...but it has humbled me. For someone who used to have such rigid ideals...every piece of laundry must be ironed before hanging, every bump in a ponytail must be smoothed, no one could see my house dirty or face bare. It was suffocating. Being mother to four daughters, while at times felt like it would break me, has freed me. To just be me. Out of sheer and complete necessity. Because there is no more energy for pretense. And all I have left to give is the purest, most honest form of myself.

A Day in the Life

      I started out my morning in the gym doing deadlifts, about fifty million walking lunges, kettlebell swings and  modified walking handstands. I was sore and tired by the time I got home, but immediately had to shower and get Maryn and Brynna to school. Then rush home get Lauryn ready for Picture Day at Preschool, go to the store with Devyn and then run home to catch my breath. Or so I thought. While Lauryn was at school I decided it would be a brilliant idea to surprise her and set up a big girl bed for her, move Devyn from the crib to the toddler bed and take the crib down to give to Maryn's piano teacher who is expecting twins in a couple of months. This meant rearranging all the furniture and lugging everything up two flights of stairs from the basement to the Littles' room. About half way through it my muscles reminded me I had already done all those deadlifts and lunges this morning. Not smart. I asked the Littles to lay down for 20 minutes, so I could sit, uninterrupted, for a rest. They ignored me and tried to break loose and run outside. Apparently they don't care that Momma's been up since 4:30.

     The big girls will be getting home from school soon. Luckily 1st Quarter Robotics is over for the Biggles now, which was their usual Wednesday activity. That means I don't have to drive back down to the school to get them (our school is about 20 minutes away) because my sweet friend Kathleen offered to bring them home after school with her kids. Then it's homework, chores, dinner, jammies for the kids and then I am off to a Presidency Meeting for Primary and may make it home in time to catch the Presidential Debates and kiss my husband. I dare someone to imply mothers sit around and eat bob-bons all day.