Goodness knows I love my three babies, and am inherently aware the gift each of them is. Trust me…after two years of fertility testing and treatments, a miscarriage our first pregnancy, and then Big Man’s 3.5 month early arrival, they are each treasured. They are growing up quickly; our time with them at home is dwindling. I know someday soon, I will miss all this crazy. But good golly, why does that seem to mean I’m not allowed to complain how much it sucks some days, how hard it is, how exhausted I am, how over any particular season I might be?
Why aren’t we allowed to say this is hard? That doesn’t mean I’m not grateful and thankful for my babies, nor that I’m not aware they’ll soon be grown and gone.
We’re not quite a month into this school year, and I’m kind of over it…the fire-drill mornings, the “Do you have homework? What homework do you have? Did you do your homework? Did you put your finished homework in your backpack? Did you actually turn in your homework? Why didn’t you turn in your homework? Did you study for your test? Do you have your running shoes? Do you have your uniform? How are you supposed to wear your hair for the game? What time is the game? Why is this envelope I gave you to give your teacher still in your folder two weeks later?” and on, and on, and on. Not to mention the hauling people everywhere all day, every day…..three or four trips to the high school most days, one trip across town to Little Man’s school, games, meets, dance classes, trips to the store to get this or that for whatever project that’s somehow due tomorrow and I’m just being told he/she needs something. We won’t even talk about grocery shopping, meal planning/prepping/creating, and the billion doctor/eye doctor/orthodontist visits that have to be scheduled and attended. Throw in a back-t0-school night, or a PTA dinner/meeting, and I’m totally rattled.
Why aren’t we allowed to say we’re exhausted? Why don’t we get to say this is hard? Why don’t we get to fuss every once in awhile without being reminded – sometimes nicely, sometimes not-so-nicely – that too soon, we will miss this, and we should just be grateful. I am grateful. I’m thankful for every breath each of my children takes, every single day. I’m grateful I have to go to the mall and buy clothes, make-up, jewelry, shoes for my baby girl. I’m grateful I have to take my biggest to the running store to get racing flats. I’m grateful I get to take a picture of them by the courtyard gate at harvest every year. I’m grateful I have to buy food for five people. I’m grateful I have to make sure three kids get to school every day, home from school every day, showered every day, to whatever activity every day, to bed every night. I’m damn grateful. But I’m also exhausted, tired, stressed, frustrated. I love that I get to see my once-two-pounder run cross country and play golf. I love that I get to watch my princess dance and cheer. I love that I don’t get half of what Little Man is telling me about coding or whatever app he’s discovered. I love all of that. But I’m still tired, exhausted, drained, stressed, and frustrated, and it should be okay to say that out loud sometimes.