Plagiarism at its best.

My sister articulates things so well.  She wrote a post a few days ago that says, so perfectly, things that I feel and want to say but don't know how.  It is a time of transition in my life.  Transition in A LOT of different things.  I am floating through it, trying to find my footing as I go, finding the new norm while keeping perspective and recognizing the temporary parts of it all.  I read it outloud back to her to help her proofread and it made me cry.  That's not so abnormal.  I am way slushier than I used to be.  But I'm a Mom, the emotions are sometimes so close to the surface, all you have to do it is ask how my day is going.  I thought about even including the adorable pictures of her kids because they are so perfectly suited with her post but I didn't, so you'll have to go look at her blog to check it out.  In the meantime, I will be patient with the week ahead which will reveal the fate of our family for years to come and wake up tomorrow with a resolve to clean the kitchen and finally get the laundry put away.
So here you go, her words, not mine.  But so well said.

Babies don't keep...

I miss blogging. I miss feeling on top of things enough that I can take the time to sit down and write a blog. It is so late right now, but I don't want my quiet time to end. It takes so long to get a quiet moment these days...
I am understanding more than ever what a sacrifice it is to be a mother. I'm in it pretty deep with four. Game on. There's no coffee break (or in my case, a Dr. Pepper break). There's rarely even a lunch break! I don't get to clock out. My wants and needs are so outnumbered it's laughable! Sometimes I wonder if I even have wants and needs outside of my role as Mom. I'm in a phase where much of the person I used to be has been put on a shelf. And it's okay--that person will be there someday when I'm not so needed by my kids. I like to think she'll be fun to dust off and re-discover when I have a whole new perspective and set of skills and experiences under my belt. Maybe my husband will find her kind of interesting and fun too. I'm not bitter at the children for needing. After all, they just innocently arrived in this world--totally vulnerable. And at the end of the day I never regret serving them, whereas I usually regret being selfish. It's an experience I am ultimately grateful for. I know it's making me better...it's just super challenging. (Duh. Challenges make us grow.) It's just hard to figure out my balance with each new phase of learning/growing. Recently I have had some great insights as a mother that I can only attribute to inspiration and answers to my motherly prayers. Actual specific changes that I have made to how I parent are making a difference. My child that used to throw horrific tantrums every day sits and snuggles me on the stairs every morning while he waits for his ride to school. He finds me when he comes home from practice and gives me a hug. This is a miracle to me. I feel a better connection with all of my children and somehow I even feel more patient. My eyes have been opened as to what they need from me right now. They need my love and attention. It sounds so simple, but how often have I become frustrated with a child because they are keeping me from cleaning or doing laundry? How often have I felt like my children are keeping me from doing my job? And then I laugh at myself because THEY ARE MY JOB. The other stuff is extra. In the old object lesson, they are the big rocks--the main priorities in my life--and everything else can fall into place around them. It doesn't all fit unless they come first. I don't ever want my kids to see me choosing to look at a computer screen or a TV or a phone when I could be looking at them. How soon the tables will turn, and if I never chose them, why would they choose me? But as far as housekeeping goes I am drowning, plain and simple. I can't get on top of it, let alone stay on top of it. And it's hard to find the motivation to work on details when the obvious things are so out of control. (The clutter, my GOSH THE CLUTTER!) I mean, it's impossible, right? But knowing that doesn't cure things. In fact, knowing the battle is futile kind of leaves me a little less motivated to even try to conquer the mess most days. As long as there are Legos and itty bitty Play Mobile parts and Polly Pockets and teeny TINY "Littlest Pet Shop" pieces in my home...It feels a little impossible to beat the clutter.
This messy house thing has been on my mind a lot. I've been so ashamed and embarrassed. I used to be so clean. So neat. So tidy. I took such pride in being a neat-freak. It's hard to let it go. People told me I would have to let go a little with each kid. And I have. But I want to fight letting it go. I want to be the exception--the one who can, in fact, do it all. I want to be the mom who has figured out how to get the children to work like little obedient soldiers with their chore charts and their humble, grateful, willing attitudes. I want the well-oiled family machine that doesn't really exist. (Don't we all?) I want to feel like a good parent and live in a clean house. A clean house doesn't seem like an extravagant wish...
And yet, I keep feeling so strongly that my kids matter more than all that. Why can't both matter? Why can't I do it all? I wish I could. I've been trying so hard. Having a clean and tidy home will never NOT matter to me. That is why I'm not giving up. That is why I will continue to strive for that one or two magical days a week where I might consider inviting someone inside...but I won't cry tears over it. Not over the house. I've decided to put that part of me up on that shelf for a while too. Right now I'm busy with other things...


Song for a Fifth Child
by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton
Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
Sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.
Oh, I’ve grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
And out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo
But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren’t her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
For children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.