Dry motherhood

Can I let you guys in on a hard truth? 

In November, I had to pray (again), "Lord, help me enjoy motherhood again. I don't like being a mom right now/this week/this month...longer..." 

Because I didn't. It was rare that I had a moment in the day when I thought "Ahhh this is the stuff...I love doing this." I seemed to yell more, I was irrational, the kids seemed to fight more, Willow seemed to need me harder. Seem, seem, seem. 

And that's ok. 

Then, the third week in December came in, quiet as snow. I had more patience. The moments of awe, where I couldn't believe that I got to raise these humans as they raised me (as we were all raised up by our Heavenly Father) were coming closer together. The moments where I just wanted to stop my three littles and do weird mom things like smell their heads (I know) or rock them like infants while I told them their birth stories. The moments when I looked at Zoe looking so grown and I internally crumbled as I erased a math problem and showed her how to fix it.  The moments when I looked at Asher's feet and thought to myself "those look like boy feet," and then I clipped his toe nails while he still let me be the one to do it. The moments when I rocked Willow to sleep and let the full weight of her rest on my chest as I smelled her baby...ok, toddler (sob) breath that still smells sweet on its own. The moments I nursed her and my heart exploded as I realized again, "this is the last one."

When outside of them, I'm thankful for the periods of dry motherhood because then I get these times when I feel close to exploding with noticing what I missed in the dry times, back when I couldn't WAIT until they were all asleep and I could stare into space. When I even felt resentment. When I thought, "this is life? THIS?"

*I mean, I'm still excited for when they all fall asleep, but it's with a feeling of refreshment instead of resentment. If that makes sense*

While in the dry (even resentful and angry) times, I try to remember it won't always be like this. But I think thoughts like "if I look back when they're older and yearn for these days it's only because I won't remember them accurately" and I feel mad at you for telling me this because you aren't still in these hard days. You're in other hard days. You don't know. 

But today...today, I'm ok. I'm more than ok. I'm overdosing on Willow's cuddles and looking at Asher's boy face and loving the fact that he still wants to discuss life with me and even HE still wants to cuddle. I'm relishing the few words left that he mispronounces (bemember, masketti, basagna) I'm watching Zoe beat her anxiety and playing with her hair as I think, "oh Zo, you're a young woman, I can't even remember you as a toddler." Then, I look at Willow and remember (sort of).  Today I'm finding it funny that when I tell Willow no, she throws her whole body back in protest no matter where she is, even at risk of her own bodily harm. If I stop her backwards body fling, she flings forward. It's funny. It's her strong-willed little personality and today it thrills me. Tomorrow, it may undo me, but we'll let tomorrow worry about tomorrow. 

There's a part of me that worries that even putting this into writing is jinxing me and the dry season will come upon me again when I hit "publish." But what I DO know is that much like every other area of life, the seasons come and the seasons go and they aren't all pretty. All we can do is learn lessons within each season and use them as fuel for the rest of our journey. Life is hard and life is stunning. And that's ok. 

*If you're reading this while cuddling your newborn and think, "I will NEVER feel like that toward my child" then just tuck these words away. Maybe you won't. But IF you do, you can remember you're in good company because it's the norm. Loving a little one into adulthood is hard work. Heart work. We lovers are warriors and sometimes we get tired and worn. It's why we so desperately need community (dare I say...a village).