in the trenches of motherhood

Can I tell you that I love my kids more than I ever thought possible?

That from the moment we found out we were pregnant, to the moment I hollered pushing them out and they hollered back in return, to the first time I held each of them, to the giggles at each other that threaten to burst my heart wide open all over again... in each of those moments, I have loved more fiercely, more deeply, more sweetly than I ever thought possible.  And that love just continues to grow, without signs of stopping.  I would do anything for those little boys.  Anything.  In a heartbeat.

... unless it's respond to "maaaaaa-maaaaa" again for the 20089234rd time this morning.

You moms of toddlers, babies, infants (teenagers, tweens too?) you know what I'm talking about.  Let's shoot straight for just a hot second, mkay?

We love our kiddos to death.

But we are "le tired" and "well then have a nap" is not an option for us. And the missiles are already firing.  And if you have more than one, "nap while they're napping" is a sweet and blissful dream that we haven't gotten to visit in a while.  Truthfully.

And while I love my mommy blogs, I have read a few too many lately that seem to dichotomize how deeply we love our kids with the reality that we're tired.  And sometimes driven crazy by our littles.  That we sometimes miss our "pre-kids" lives, even while we would never dream of trading the richness and beauty of our crazy lives now.  I've felt the guilt of talking about how much my toddler is driving me crazy with his wonderful curiosity and wicked smart little brain (for reals, the kid knows almost all his letters and can count to twenty with only a few sezzenba-teens inserted and he's not even two yet. #mombrag).  And you can bet your hot cup of coffee that I never get to drink a hot cup of coffee anymore because we have to do that together all.day.long.  But if I say that out loud, that I'm going a little bit crazy, it must mean that I'm failing to "treasure the moments" or "enjoy it while they're little" or going to miss out on it and then "they grow up so fast."  Say it on facebook sometime, and see how many comments it takes before someone says that.  I'd give you three tops, bless their hearts.

It feels a little too either/or - either mommy blogs are totally sarcastic about mommyhood and the craziness of parenting and all the poop (literally and figuratively, because let's be honest, there's SO much poop) OR they're sweet and lovely, easy fix proposals, cleaned up more than today's G rated movies, that frankly make me either cry sweet tears and want another baby now (what?!) or feel *poopy* about my current level of frustration about all the poop and other things equally inane.

Right?  Tell me I'm not the only one.

I hate the feeling that admitting things are messy, exhausting or chaotic, without a pretty conclusion, somehow makes us feel like we need to clarify, "but I really love my kids" as if that was not understood.

Because... isn't that just motherhood?  A love and life so fierce and so strong and so beautiful that it cannot be explained in words, amidst a chaos of unknowns and so.many. graham cracker crumbs and all that poop and mind-numbing exhaustion and angst of trying to figure out how do I help my child with ____, coupled with laughter and smiles so wide they make your face hurt.

My sweet, joyful, contented youngest son was colicky for the first four and a half months of his life.  I say colicky, because I don't really have a word otherwise - but I know that it's not fully accurate, for those mamas that do have a truly colicky baby.  What I mean by that is - at least two if not more feedings a day, he would be writhing, screaming, and fighting against me, as if in pain.  Otherwise he was happy, but nursing was anything but pleasant or beautiful.  But he wouldn't take a bottle, period (and yes, we tried everything) and so to feed him, this was our only option.  [Yes, we talked to his doctor, we tried dietary changes for us both, we tried medicines, we tried everything short of feeding him while I stood on my head while drinking a gallon of southern half-sweetened iced tea through a catheter.]  For four and a half months.  It was unpredictable, inexplicable, and made leaving the house brutal.  I used to look forward to being woken up in the middle of the night for feedings, because those were the only feedings that were predictably always peaceful and sweet.  And then all of a sudden, at four and a half months, after a week where I thought it could not possibly get worse, all of a sudden, it stopped.  And just like that, my happy, easy-going, trusting baby became a happy baby while eating as well.   His doctor says they sometimes just have to outgrow it.  Whatever it was, I'll take it.  Hallelujah.

But you know what?  In the midst of all that crazy, exhausting, agony of trying to get him to eat and simultaneously feeling like I was torturing him, I was and am head over heels for that little guy.  He's my snuggle bug, my easy-going, forgiving, sweet little guy - the cutest little button, with the sweetest laugh, and the biggest grin when his brother walks into the room.  Even in the midst of my tears, on those awful bad horrible days, when I just needed a break, I could not imagine loving him more.  And yet that love just continue(d/s) to grow.

But sometimes, in the midst of that, I just needed to be able to say "This is hard right now" "I am so frustrated right now" "I need a break" - without feeling like I'd either get reminded to treasure the moments or like I needed to quickly follow it with a treatise defending my love for my child.

Right?

Can that be a grace that we give one another?

To seek to honor our kids in what we share, yes.  To not continually whine or complain, absolutely.   But, yet, not to photoshop our lives either.  To offer helpful feedback when it's requested.  But not to instantaneously jump there.  To dwell with one another, offer grace to one another, and bless each other to be messy and chaotic and totally in love with our messy, chaotic kiddos.  To sometimes just say "That sounds really hard.  I'm sorry." rather than jumping to a proposed solution.

I am incredibly grateful to be a part of a number of mom's groups, friendships, and communities where women are can be honest with one another about the hard, exhausting parts, and without that being heard as antithetical to loving our kids.  And I am beyond thankful for that.  I don't know how I would have made it through those months - or how I'll make it through toddlerhood - without those relationships.

Can we be that community to one another?  Can we breathe that grace over one another?

For the mama who is exhausted, missing sleep and her previous life, can we give her the freedom to not be "loving every minute of it"?  That we know she loves her son or daughter and it's okay to admit that it's hard. For the mama who doesn't know what to do next, can we give her the grace to know that she's not alone?  That it's okay.  That we've been there too, and we also don't have all the answers.  That her love for her kids is showing even in her "I don't know."  For the mother whose toddler is driving her up a wall right now, can we give her set her free with a cup of hot coffee and maybe an afternoon off, and the truth that she's doing a great job.  It's okay that she gets frustrated and tired. It's okay that she needs a break, because tomorrow, she'll be right back there, exactly where her kids need her.

Motherhood often feels in the trenches.  And can be incredibly lonely. And exhausting.  Even while it is one of the most beautiful, fulfilling experiences I have ever known.  We need one another.  It's not either/or messy or beautiful.  It's always both.  And when we can be for one another, in the messy parts as well as the beautiful, then we're actually in the trenches, together.

... and I really love my kids. :)