A Lesson Re-Learned

I have never been one of those people who learns a lesson the first time. Just ask my parents. Or my husband. Or anyone who has known me closely. I'm one of those who learns something, swears to change her ways, then a short while later tries to temp fate to see if things have changed and that lesson no longer applies. It's never too long before I end up at the same place I started, learning the lesson all over again. 

This is a very bad practice.

Well, this week I had the opportunity to re-learn one of my very favorite lessons. Before I tell you about it, I have a confession to make: I am not a playful mom. That is, I love to play, as long as I am choosing the activity. When it comes to playing toys and games and dolls with my children, I'm great at convincing myself that I have far more pressing things to attend to. Like the dishes. Or changing a diaper. Or, um, Facebook. There, I said it. 

So, back to my lesson. This past Wednesday, God gave us a rare gift.  In the middle of the summer in Texas, we awoke to overcast skies, dark clouds, and glorious, glorious rain. I declared it a rain day, cleared our schedule, and vowed to spend the day inside. Then, by some stroke of inspiration, I decided to take it one step further. Not only would we stay inside, but I would allow the kids to make a list of all the fun things they wanted to do, and we would do them.  Every. Single. One. Whew.  I mentally prepared myself for a day of hard mommy work, patience, self sacrifice, etc.

And then we began. First on the list was making Auntie Sydney’s delicious sugar cookies.  I relinquished control and let the girls dump every ingredient, crack every egg, and mix it all together. I let them eat cookie dough. While the dough refrigerated, we made the greatest blanket fort of all time, complete with 10 chairs, 13 blankets, 4 pillows, and 2 tension rods that we borrowed from the shower and closet.  (Never mind the fact that we have not one but TWO awesome play tents readily available, let's take apart the closet!). We made a MESS. When the fort was ready, we rolled dough, cut cookies (using a billion different cookie cutters, of course), put them in the oven, then settled in for a few games of UNO in our beautiful fortress.  After UNO it was Candyland, cookies, reading stories, silly pictures and giggles, nail painting, and finally a movie in the fort for the win. 

At the end of the day, we cleaned up (OK mostly I cleaned up), I made dinner, David came home, and the evening played out as usual. And I realized to my dismay that I was not one bit more tired than I would have been any other day! If anything, I had more mental energy because we skipped the usual arguments, power struggles, sibling rivalry, etc. that tend to happen when I’m trying to all those many more important things I usually spend so much time doing. And the kicker?  The house was not any less clean, the diapers all got changed, and Facebook and I survived without each other. Huh.

But the connection I made with my kids that day, that's worth its weight in gold. Since that day I've noticed my absolute Daddy's girl of a three-year-old spontaneously throwing her arms around me and telling me she loves me. (This is usually reserved solely for Dad.) I've noticed Paisley opening up to me and sharing her feelings just a little more. She's been kinder and sweeter and softer.

And mostly, I'm feeling a big shift in perspective on my part. What are my priorities?  Where is my mind and my heart throughout the day?  How many moments am I willing to trade for things far less consequential than connecting with and building up these sweet little souls? This is the very essence of motherhood, and if there's anything more important then perhaps I'm missing the point entirely...  

As I said, this is a repeat lesson, a patient and loving Father teaches me over and over again. I just pray that each time I learn it, something within my core changes for good.  Or at least enough to carry through till next time. 

The (Not-So) Perfect Morning

This morning was the perfect morning.  Slept in til 7:00, dog walked by 8:00, morning snuggles with pup and kids, feelings of contentment and hope for the day...

They're not all like this. 

Take yesterday for example:

2am. The dog wakes up. Whimper, whine, whimper. Potty break at this hour?  Really? Sigh. I open the door to her crate and she disappears in the dark.  Where is she?  By the light of my phone I find her sitting by the side of my bed. Come, Jess. Come ON. I scoot her out the door, where she sits for several minutes before I let her in.  Back in the crate, whimper, whimper, whine. Surely she'll go back to sleep....

4 am. Baby crying.  Ugh, here we go. The sheer force of habit pulls me out of my delicious bed and I shuffle in the dark across the living room. I could do this walk with my eyes closed. In fact, I think they are closed. We'll nurse, pop in binky, back to sleep. I know I need to start enforcing better sleeping patterns again. He used to be such a good sleeper! We'll start that tomorrow... Nurse, rock, binky, set down, shut door, and... screaming. Awesome.  Doesn't he know we have to be up for the day in 2.5 hours? Doesn't he know it's a big day for us? Surely he'll go back to sleep...

5am.  Baby cries again.Or is he still crying? And dog whining. Did I really sleep through the baby crying for a whole hour? I'm a terrible mother. A very, very tired, terrible mother. After a few more minutes lying in bed, the Cry-It-Out and Attachment Parenting moms hashing it out in my half coherent mind, I shuffle over to Baby's room, cursing the unwelcome dawn. After 20 minutes of wrestling in bed with Baby, dog whimpering, husband moaning, me painfully parting with every last shred of hope for sleep, I'm dressed and out of bed, baby in stroller, bitterly dragging the dog out for an early morning walk. It's 5:40am and This. Day. BLOWS.

The rest of the morning is a blur of the following:
"Good morning, girls." Kisses, hugs.
Tired moans, turned into cries and screams.
"Get dressed, please, we need to go in a few minutes."
Cries, screams.
"But Mom, I'm tired."
"Mom, I need my... "
"Hun, have you seen my...."
"I'm hungry!"
"Mom, can you wipe me?"
"I'm tiiiiiiiired!"
Tell me about it. 

And me:
Why am I the one...?
"Clothes, please..."
Why is this house such a mess...?
"Come oooon!"
Oh, yay, a puddle on the floor. Jessss!
Let's GOOO!

On the way to the office to drop off David, over whining and banter of small children, I wonder for a moment what has become of my life, my hopes of dreams of old, and ME in general.

                                                                       * * *

Now back to this morning.

2am. The dog wakes. Whine, whimper, whine. David gets up. Rather than going outside, Jess stubbornly sits by our bed, and a couple of thoughts occurs to me in my sleepy state: 1.Thank-you, good husband. 2.Why is she awake? and 3. Hmmm, maybe she just wants to snuggle... Dog is shuffled outside. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

5am.  Bo wakes up.  Well, at least it's not 4:00. Nurse, binky, set down, shut door, hold breath. Slumbery silence.  Ahhhh....

7:00. Dog wakes up, and so do I. I feel refreshed. I get dressed, and take the dog out for a lovely walk on a Texas summer morning. The grass shimmers in the golden glow of sunrise. The world is as quiet and still as the silvery heron perched by the stream, and I breathe it all in.

I walk home, through our quaint, quiet neighborhood, across our freshly cut grass. I enter the house to the sound of soft cheerful jabbering from the baby's room.  How I love it when he wakes up happy!  My heart nearly bursts at the sight of him beaming at me from the crib, and he wraps his tiny arms around my neck and burrows his face into my chest. We spend the next what I wish were forever snuggling, cooing, and giggling in my bed with Dad and puppy. One by one the girls drag their blankets and stuffed animals into our room where they join in the snuggles and kisses and laughs, and I think to myself, 'How much more perfect could life be? and, 'How in the world did I get this lucky?'.

                                                                      * * *

So what changed from one morning to the next? Well, I got a little bit more sleep and that sure goes a long way.  Things weren't so rushed, and my attitude was a bit brighter.  But when it comes down to it, some days are just awesome.  The universe comes together, the stars align and everything is smooth sailing and perfect. And other days just... suck.

But maybe, just maybe, it's because of those terrible, awful days that the good ones seem so very sweet. Maybe it's on those days that we are stretched to our limits, broken down, beat up, chewed up and spit out, that God is able to take us in his hands, smooth an edge here, fill a crack there, and build us right back up again and then some. And the next day - or week, month, year - we wake up a little sore, but stronger, wiser, more patient, more humble.  More aware of how beautiful and precious those peaceful moments of love, laughter and connection really are. And more able to create more of those moments for ourselves and the ones we love.

As for what has become of my life, my hopes and dreams, and Me in general, I realize: I chose this life. The kids, the dog, the sleepless nights, the morning snuggles. These are my hopes and dreams. The good, the bad, the dog pee. And this is just God's round-about way of turning ME into something greater than I hoped.

It has been a week since I started writing this post to the the time that I am posting it.  In case you're interested to know, we have since concluded that our puppy Jess can in fact sleep through the night.  As we came to suspect, she did not need to go outside to relieve herself throughout the night; in fact, all she wanted was to be snuggled up with us in bed. Now when she starts whimpering in the morning, we pull her in the bed. She burrows her velvety head into our side and sleeps hard until we drag her out of bed for a walk. We're all getting a little more sleep these days.