I don't know why (well, I do, I guess I'll get to that), but I was the grouch queen this weekend.
I decided to go on a cleaning rampage on Friday. It involved cleaning and organizing to a greater degree than I've done in the last couple of years since baby was born. It felt good. It felt good until those first shoes walked on my clean floor (clean floors are extra precious around here, since they don't come often or easily!), until the first crumbs were dusted in a little Hansel and Gretel trail, until window smearings and suspicious sticky spots. We cleaned out the older kids' closets, put winter clothes away (thank you K.J. Payne), and weeded like crazy on Saturday. My husband and son went to help my parents move, so the girls and I were on our own for the weeding. It was hot. They got tired fast. There were a ton of weeds. I guess I had blocked them out a little too well. We all got sweaty and dirty and tired. I had to keep stopping to make sure the littlest boy hadn't run away or gotten himself elbow deep in the kitty litter (he thinks it's his sand box). I totally bribed everyone with periodic treats (I have tried really hard not to use food as a reward, remember when I worked on that? but it went out the window Saturday). When I pulled out some Gatorade for one of the "treats" (I was using some psychology here, since my little girl had been begging for it that morning), my little boy started saying "I want alligator." I finally figured out what he meant! Ha. You know what, even though I was tired and grumpy, I really enjoyed several hours working together. My kids had cycles of good helping and not, but it was fun to just be able to talk without trying to multi-task physically and mentally. I especially enjoyed chatting with my 9 year-old, as she was the least distracted by things like the sprinkler, the cats, or the baby.
After some washer/dryer/fridge moving (we traded my parents washer/dryer), more frantic floor scrubbing after dirty men's shoes clomped about, helping my daughter finish her closet (she dumped her entire bottom-half closet contents in her room, which I helped her with in 5 minute intervals, returning to strain this old back as we hauled in the new washer, frantically wiped down the shoe prints again, then re-vacuumed my daughter's room). I mean really, I thought, is it unreasonable to expect my house to stay clean for one day, just 24 hours? Is that too much to ask?
I decided that trying to clean and then keep clean a house with lots of small children is like trying to pour water into a sieve and then drink it. If you try hard enough, long enough, you're still not going to be able to drink out of it but you sure are going to be frustrated.
Another reason I was grumpy, I had a temporary crown fall out (it's ok, it was really bothering me). I realized that I have a low tolerance for nagging, annoying pain (but I didn't scream when I gave birth naturally this last time, even though my husband claimed that I did almost bite him-- I wasn't really going to do it). I also realized that I probably won't be getting braces soon like I had maybe hoped (ugly teeth, I did have braces for 4 years once!), as I don't want to feel so grumpy in the years when I am mom to some little ones who have to be around me all day. :)
Adding to sleep deprivation was a middle of the night visit by one of our cats (!). Since they are outside cats it was kind of a shock to hear a meow outside my bedroom in the middle of the night. They've also learned how to climb on our roof, and since we've slept with the windows open a couple of nights, they will meow outside our bedroom window (the one that got in must have gotten through the one window without a screen, I took it out to clean while on my cleaning rampage).
And, those extra baby pounds have been getting me down a little lately. I just feel so...gross. I really don't like to look in the mirror. And, to add to it, I've had a few "fat" comments lately by well-meaning people.
On Mother's Day morning, I wasn't exactly in the best of moods. I'd become a house nazi overnight, and it wasn't fun for any of us. :)
But the kids were so attentive, as usual, as attentive as little ones can be. My middlest daughter was especially sweet, she was like the Mother's Day police, keeping everyone in line and apprised of what they should or should not be doing to make my day go well.
At church I was still grumpy when said middle daughter tried to follow me into the mothers room for a feeding (I was wearing a dress! Fantastic! But how was I expecting to nurse? lol). I wasn't very nice, and I told her that for Mother's Day I just wanted her to go sit with the rest of the family. I felt very badly as I watched her walk out a little deflated. I'm still feeling badly about this.
Then we had a lesson on motherhood by a woman who doesn't consider herself a very good mother and who admitted that she hates Mother's Day (her reasons= guilt and expectations). And you know what? The lesson was fantastic, just what I needed to hear. A lot of different women spoke up about what it is that motivates them as a mother, and how they keep things in perspective. The power in the room was thick, it was palpable-- because there were so many great women in one place who really believed in motherhood, women who saw that the real powers of motherhood go way deeper than what you can see-- way deeper than a sink full of dirty dishes or an un-mopped floor, into the hearts and minds of little ones who will carry their mother's love for a lifetime. Through good and bad. I think mothers provide the roots, so to speak, of happiness.
Sometimes we get derailed on the little details of life and miss the big picture. Did it really matter whether my floor stayed immaculate? Or my little one followed me to the mothers room when she was supposed to be with the family? I realized that one of the biggest things I need to remember is-- who I am. I didn't start out thinking that motherhood was all about keeping my entry way floor mopped at all times or felt she had to look like a supermodel. I started out fired up to be that warm, nurturing presence, the motivator, the listener, the teacher, the cheerleader. I may not be perfect, but I am the person most uniquely suited to my kids needs. I may not be a fantastic seamstress, or well-organized, or many things that other women are. But I love my kids. They are my life. Literally. I would give my life for them, and I do, every day. That is what matters, loving them and being the best me I can be. Sometimes I get thinking I have to be someone else, especially someone else who is cleaner with fewer weeds, and I forget to be me. I can still clean and pull weeds (within reason!), but not lose who I am in the process. That is what my kids want and need, the best version of me. And even though I will never be perfect, I can keep on trying to be better, because it is love and effort that really matter in the end.
I have been in a little funk lately, I'm sure some of you have noticed or suspected. :) Mother's Day this year was just what I needed to remind me of why I am doing this. Of the point of it all. That what I do matters! It really, really matters. More than just about anything else on this entire planet. My dishes will be here tomorrow, but tomorrow my child will be one day older and I can't get that back.
I was going to explain the lickin' reference, but I decided to refrain from blackening a certain childs name. Someone had a very grand tantrum on Mother's Day, the other kids were quite aghast and solemn afterward. But, fresh from a great Mother's Day lesson, I kept my cool and carried said offender to her room for a nice chance to think.
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