Being Mom in the Now (sometimes harder than it sounds)

I have a friend who is up to her eyeballs in small children. She has a 4 year old, a set of twins who are 2, and a 5 month old baby. If you just did a couple blinks and reread that sentence, yes, that’s a lot of babies and little people and there is probably as much crying and screaming happening as you’re imagining. I don’t know for SURE, but I have a vague idea based on my own experience.

Because at one point, I had 3 two year olds and an infant. Lots of screaming. Lots of diapers. Lots of everything. The other day, this friend, up to her eyeballs in tiny humans, was telling me how sweet her baby is. He has his moments, but for the most part, when the rest of gang (4 year old and 2 year olds) are whining and crying and screaming and falling apart because someone is staring at them or they have the wrong color of juice box or it’s too sunny in the seat they’re in or 1000 other reasons that toddlers cry and scream and fall apart, (again, I’m GUESSING this happens at her house because, experience) her baby is just grinning away, looking out the window. We laughed and she said she was glad he was such a good baby.

Fast forward to a week later and good ole Facebook gives me a memory of my now 5 year old, grinning in this picture. Do you know what the caption said? “Right now, 75% of my children are either a) whining or b) crying. This guy's just happy to be here.”

How is this baby 5 years old now? (Note my sister's note of understanding, another mother also in the trenches with me.)

I text her the screenshot immediately and send her a little love for the day. I didn’t want to say “it gets better” or “this too shall pass” type of mumbo jumbo, because guess what, things are still pretty dang hard, just in a different way. That smiley baby from 5 years ago is still the happiest kid, but he is so much more work and worry than I every would’ve anticipated. But! My 8 year olds can get themselves breakfast and get 100% ready for school with a few prompts here and there. So, that’s something!

I also have another friend with teenagers and tweens who reminds me constantly “little people, little problems, big people, big problems.”  I’m reminded to be grateful that I know where I can find my 8 year olds everyday after school, and no one has a learner’s permit...yet. (Heaven help me in 8 short years.) She says this little quip in love and understanding. She knows where I’ve been, but also knows what’s in store. When another friend shares stories about how she’s navigating her oldest daughter’s issues with friends and school and periods and all that glorious business of middle school, I just nod with complete love and try to really listen, because, before I know it, that day will come for me too.

This two year old doctor now occasionally rolls his 8 year old eyes at mom's bad jokes. 

I also have another friend (I know guys, I have tons of friends, just be happy for me) who is doing everything humanly possible to get pregnant with one of these little people who scream and cry and whine. I think of that often too when it gets real hard. That used to be me. I bargained with the powers that be that I’d take whatever family was sent my way. So when I’m in the middle of a bedtime meltdown, when dinner dishes still need to be washed and that pile of laundry needs some kind of acknowledgement, and one kid is refusing to shower, another refusing to read, another doing flips off the bed and another banging doors and stepping in the dog’s water bowl because not enough attention is being paid, my mind flashes to all these thoughts.

They used to be babies. All of them.
They're going to be teenagers someday. All of them.
I didn't think I was going to have kids. Any of them.

So hard moments have the ability to turn into small bursts of gratitude. I’m grateful for where we are now because where we used to be was kind of hard, and I know later, it’s going to be hard again, just in a different way. It’s a constant reminder to just be in the now. Breathe and be.

Moments of my 2nd graders wanting to cuddle with me and my 5 year old stroking my face, saying “momma,” are pure gold and stashed away in my vault of Motherhood Joy. These moments will join 3 baby faces simultaneously giggling at the same game of peek-a-boo and 3 small sets of hands all trying to “help mommy” change little brother’s diaper. And if I’ve learned anything in my 8 short years of this mom gig, is that now matter how full you think your heart is, or vault of memories, there’s always room for more.