Keepin' It Real, Folks

 I cry a lot these days. I was patting myself on the back after the herculean effort of making it to my child’s school program with three littles in tow. Apparently, I didn’t get the memo, but there were no other kids there. I don’t know if they had nannies or preschool or no siblings or what, but there I was, handing out cheese sticks and making paper air planes to keep my three settled and quiet in the crowded classroom. We even left early, but Doggonit I had gotten the four of us fed, dressed, parked and in there on time. I even put lipstick on! So I was slightly stunned when I asked how the rest of it went (left early before the kids could act up) and learned that apparently, I’m totally embarrassing. Why? Because I look like a “couch potato slob who doesn’t wear make-up, do her hair or try to look good by wearing clothes that match.” Oh, and I’m “really big” as in “really fat.” 

Okay… 

That sorta stung. Usually I’m not bothered by this. (Being embarrassed by your parents is a childhood rite of passage.) I know I’m not the average SLC mom who has it all together with her hair and nails done in her LuluLemon attire – I almost take pride in not being that norm. But I’ve always found solace thinking I was attractive in a “natural beauty” sort of way and don’t want to get bogged down by all that superficial stuff anyway. This time I guess it felt different though because it came from my child who generally doesn’t notice or care about such stuff. And it came at a time when I was already down and out. Life has dealt me some lemons lately and I’m barely holding it together. It felt bad to see my “victory” of the day seen as such a failure in the eyes of the one I was sacrificing for. I said so. Gently, and calmly, then cried my eyes out in silence as I sat down to nurse my newborn for the four hundredth time today. Cracked nipple pain aside, I was sitting in the midst of overturned boardgames, dying plants, piles of folded laundry toppling over at each jumping antic of my 2 year old, and a disaster of a house, correcting my 8 year old’s violin practice between my tears. I guess I could officially say I’m overwhelmed. I thought it was the thrush – day after wicked day of cheese-grater-on-the-nipples pain – but maybe it’s just the six kids. All the backtalk, the tantrums, the nagging to stay on task, the attitude, the relentless mess-making, the quarreling, the sheer volume of diapers! Maybe it’s just that it really is too much for me. Me who always thinks I can do it all. Well, that ain’t happening. 

I’m tired. And spent. And discouraged. I keep reading “gentle parenting” books but still I lash out in frustration. I resolve every morning to remain loving and patient – and crawl in bed with guilt every night at my lack of self-control. Will it ever feel doable again? Of course it will, right? This is just a low point, right? When I get rid of this infection and don’t have all these extra demands on my time/energy (nursing every 1.5 hrs, laundering everything in vinegar daily, creams/ointments after every nursing, 25+ pills a day, crazy dietary restrictions, etc.) I mean, really, my depressed state is probably in large part to having to cut out every happy, convenient food I enjoy (dairy, carbs, fruit, sugar.) Happiness is getting to eat a sandwich or cookie again, pouring a bowl of cereal or *gasp* grabbing a piece of fruit on the go. For crying out loud. No wonder I’m so miserable. 

But thrush-issues aside, I have to remain hopeful. Not knowing how or when it will all feel doable again is really crippling me. That and being a sleep-deprived zombie. I’m sort of a wreck. So I must tell myself this too shall pass. I remind myself that at least my babies are healthy. That at least we can afford the medications and have enough food and shelter. That my husband is supportive and our kids are thriving and safe. That their needing me so intensely is a very good AND temporary thing. I say “yes” when someone offers a hand. And pray for each person who saves me – whether it’s a meal, a playdate, a carpool run, a green smoothie at my door, a shoulder to cry on, or just sweeping my nasty floor. These people are like Saints to me. These people that don’t just say, but do because they can see those tears welling up when they ask how I’m doing and know I just need anything really. Because it makes me feel loved and cared for and reminds me that I just might be able to actually do this new life we’ve gotten ourselves into. Bless them forever.

My child was apologetic and understanding. I do realize I’m not truly overweight and someday I might actually have a new outfit or hairstyle and that it really means nothing in the long run. But I have to travel those miles. I have to do the time and live the days and eventually get to that place because no one is going to do it for me. And if I’m sloppy and grouchy and frazzled at times to get there, so be it. But we will get there. And they will survive. Perhaps even thrive. And someday I might come visit my own son or daughter and help them through their sixth newborn phase. And I’ll say, “This is only temporary – you’ll get it together, I promise.” Then I’ll go clean all their bathrooms and do all their laundry and order some amazing take out for them to eat for a month. (Sidenote: My sweet mom would help, but is battling her own health issues so my wonderful mother in law came out for a week to help us last month.) The point is, this life is messy and hard and sometimes you find yourself all thrashed up and barely hanging on by your fingernails. And you just cry. But it’s okay because that’s when you find your courage. And you lean on the strength of others. That’s when you pray - and extend grace and gentleness to yourself. You remember they really won’t die living on cereal, popsicles and Netflix for a couple more months. That’s when you really find out what you’re made of because eventually you all get through!

And I’m gonna get through.

POST-EDIT--------------------------------------------------------------------

What a beautiful outpouring of kindness we experienced after this post. Such love and support and encouragement and service was overwhelming and uplifting and healing to me and my family! From loving emails/messages to a church sign up for playdates to faraway friends recruiting locals to come clean the house - what a support system!  We were so blessed by more than just shiny bathrooms and healthy groceries but the beautiful friendship and service that was extended blew me away. THANK YOU!!!

I am feeling enormously better. While it's not entirely gone, my crazy efforts/diet made the pain go away and I'm now cautiously introducing regular foods again. So far so good! Nursing is truly the best, and makes my heart melt in a mushy mess of love every time we sit down together. I'm so glad we don't have to give it up!

xoxo