Tired Self Partaking of Some Love Soup

If you know me well (I mean REALLY well) you know I'm not the most pleasant person to be around when I'm running low on sleep. I'm a brat really if I don't get a solid six or so. The last few nights have been rough in the shut-eye department. The night before last Tralee peed the bed which woke everyone up when I started the steam cleaner. Jim's out of town, so I had to deal with this situation all by my lonesome. After I got everything cleaned up, and the laundry going, I was too wired to fall back asleep. When I finally started drifting off, I heard Hunter's morning request, "MILK!" loud and clear which was my cue to get up and fulfill my motherly duties. A sippy cup full of milk later, and I was able to lay back down for a bit while the kids climbed all over me. I rested, but the sandman stayed at bay.

Last night Hunter woke up at 4am, a bit earlier than usual with his milk request. I got him his sippy cup and an hour later he fell back asleep (thankfully), but I had some stuff for my primary lesson I needed to finish, so I just stayed up and took care of it. Again, when I finally felt like I could fall back asleep the kids were up and ready to groove. Jim's usually the one to get up with the kids in the morning and let me sleep an extra hour or so before he leaves for work. I LOVE him for that, but when he's out of town, I get no extra hour. So, to sum it up, I'm TIRED!!!

I was hoping for a nice Sunday nap after church today. I thought to myself, "If I feed the kids, and then put on a movie, maybe I can sneak into my bedroom and take a little snooze." Yeah, that didn't happen. Hunter followed me in, and began using my body as a launching pad to jump from. I layed him down a few times and sternly told him, "It's time for night night! Go to sleep!" He laughed in my face. I tried laying him in his own bed, then going back to my own, only to hear Tralee and Hunter jumping on his bed squealing with delight a few minutes later. They eventually found their way back into my bedroom where I was finally getting to that super comfortable state right before you drift off to sleep. They climbed up by me as I pretended I was sleeping, hoping they would give up on me. They didn't. Tralee started whispering in my ear, "Mommy. I'm still hungry. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. I'm hungry!" I still didn't move until the fowl aroma of Hunter's dirty diaper seeped into my nose. At this point I slammed the covers off of me, got up and said (maybe it was more like I yelled), "FINE!! I give up!!!"

I went about my motherly duties with a grump on my face. I changed Hunter's bum (for the third time today) while asking him, "Didn't you JUST poop after church? Why did you go and poop again?" I fixed Tralee another plate of food while lecturing her, "If you were still hungry you should have told me while I had all the lunch stuff out earlier!" So basically, I was a tired grump. In the middle of one of my scowls I noticed Tralee tentatively creeping into the kitchen, then she said in a voice that could melt butter it was so sweet,

"Mom. You're mad at me, but you need to be patient too. You're a grown up. I'm a little girl."

Yup.

I melted.

I ran over to Tralee, scooped her up into my arms, and told her how much I love her. I apologized for yelling, and told her that she's such a good girl. I fixed her more food with an extra dollop of love, and vowed to not let my grumpy tired self take over again. . . EVER!

I know what I signed up for when I decided to become a mother, but not really. People always tell you it's the hardest job in the world, but you can't really understand what "hard" is until you're up all night pacing the floor with your sick child praying that they'll just get comfortable enough to fall back asleep. Wishing that you could get EVERY sickness for them so they never have to feel pain. People also warn, "you'll be tired" but that doesn't even cover half of what I sometimes feel. The kind of tired I feel as a mother is completely different than the tired I've ever felt before. And it never goes away.

And then there's the worrying. Worrying that you're not a good enough mom. Worrying that you didn't spend enough quality time with them today. Worrying about too much TV time. Worrying that they didn't eat enough fruits, veggies, and protein. Worrying that their teeth will rot if you let them eat another piece of candy. Worrying that you didn't read to them enough, or spend enough learning time with them. Worrying that every time you sit on the computer, decide to clean, or work on a craft you're neglecting the quality time you SHOULD be spending with the babies. Worry what someone would think if they dropped in and saw your house looking the way it does (like a giant toy box puked all over the floor). Worrying about other kids being nice to them on the playground. Worrying about the runny nose they have and praying that it doesn't turn into a full fledged cold. The worrying also never ends. Yet, if I could go back in time to my childless self, I would sign up all over again for this crazy train of parenting. Yes I'm tired a lot, and yes my house is NEVER clean, and YES sometimes I lock myself in my closet just to get a minute to myself. But as crazy as it sounds, it's all worth it. Every hour of sleep I've lost, every cold dinner I've eaten, every stain on our furniture from leaky sippy cups or paint covered fingers, is all worth it for the moments that melt me into a goopy soup of love.

People warn you that you'll never love a being as much as you will your kids. I ALSO knew this to be true, but not really. I didn't know that I could sit and stare at my child's sleeping face all hours of the night and feel like my heart would burst with love for them. I wasn't aware that watching my child accomplish one of their milestones (crawling, walking, climbing, talking) would feel like the proudest moment of my life. Even more proud than when I graduated from college. I didn't know that I would tear up so easily when my three-year-old begins to understand the concept of Christmas. I've never laughed so hard, as when my kids do or say something so funny I laugh until my sides hurt. Then there are the teaching moments, moments where my kids teach me something (like tonight, with Tralee innocently explaining to me our positions, "you're a grown up. I'm just a little girl.") where I realize just how brilliant, smart, and innocent they are. I wasn't aware of the heart melting capabilities children hold in a glance or a simple sentence. Only my kids could turn me from a brat into a puddle of love in two seconds flat.

Oh how I love them, and I so badly want to be the mother I'm capable of. Cause these two:

They deserve the best.