Tuesday, September 17, 2013

True Story.

I ran to Target. Between the naps. (This isn't leisure shopping -- time is of the essence.)
This time of day requires food on the go.
It's raining outside. So Jasmine "needed" her umbrella -- that means I need to be making sure Ruby doesn't get decapitated or blinded by it.
So getting in the car takes longer than the usual long.

I find the hilariously too large of cart that Jasmine insists on having. The one that can hold three kids. But I have only two. She just wants to have to seat belts in it. "So she's safe." (The usual scenario of Ruby in the front buckled. And her in the back not buckled is clearly negligent on my part.)

In the isle:
Of course after finding that huge cart and then maneuvering it through isles not made for it's size, they both want out.
They were running around, Ruby was pulling all the tags off the sock racks. 
Jasmine was assigned to help me with Ruby. However that only equated to her yelling, "Mom!!! She's running away!!" every 3 seconds regardless of any moment on Ruby's part.
Then I found out I needed to change a poopy diaper.
I had been trying hopelessly to find Blake some socks, but I couldn't stop for long enough to figure out which sock was which.
I had this coupon, which while I was at home seemed like a great deal. $5 off!! Nice!!
Once I was at the store, I was pretty sure I'd have handed over $10 to go back in time and just stay home.
Dispite all this, I was there, so I wanted to try something on. ( I also figured I could change a poopy diaper in the fitting room. )
As we headed that way 3 young women appeared at the fitting room desk. The one who seemed the least like she was working (she was just leaning on the desk all chatty like) suddenly said while looking at Ruby, "I wish they could stay that small forever."


Interlude into my head

Lately I've been really grappling with the concept of that statement.
I literally feel like I can't go more than a day (often more than a few hours) without seeing someone say to someone on Facebook "Someday they will grow up and leave you, and you will wish they were back in diapers again." (Or something like that.)

*If you say that (or anything) to someone on Facebook, please do realize that anyone who is friends with them on Facebook, and maybe even friends' of a friend, can see what you wrote (unless it is a private message.) You aren't just saying that to one mom, you are likely saying it to hundreds of moms. And they might be hearing it from hundreds of people, inadvertently. It can get heavy! And that's the rough part about social media -- somedays you need to hear something, and some days you need to NOT hear something. And there is no way to filter that. 

And I don't know about anyone else, but for me, hearing the things about babies growing up and missing that is quite possibly the worst thing someone could say to me. It just heaps piles of guilty on my weary head.
It sounds so harsh to me.
It ends up playing in my head as: "Suck it up wimpy-pants! What you think is incredibly difficult, some days nearly impossible, is actually the best thing in the world. And you are too stupid to realize it until its too late.  And once its too late you will have to crawl in a hole and cry because you missed everything."
And since it's stated so often to someone, via the internet, for nearly any reason at all, sometimes NO reason, it just makes me feel as if I am always failing as a mom. Failing to enjoy it.

It also sounds like, "It only gets worse from here. Diaper days are the only days worth while."
So.....that leaves me....invigorated? (mmmnnnmm. Nope.) Encouraged? Definitely not. They WILL grow. 

I also never need reminding that things in life are temporary. I grew up with that concept. (My mom's mom died when she was twelve, and I realized very early on how time was not always on our side and how life doesn't have guarantees.) So more often than not, I ride a fine line of crazy on the concept of missing things. Sometimes I try so hard to enjoy the now that I can't enjoy it because I want to enjoy it better and I don't know how. Telling me to enjoy something is so intense that I kinda start suffocating at the thought, because I feel like I was just told I don't know how to do it, and I start trying to do it better fast enough to not miss it.
It's dizzying. 

In the vein of baby-and-young-ones stuff.
I'm starting to accept that I am just not a tiny people person.
I love my girls with every fiber of my being. 
I would do anything on earth for them.
And I love them to the moon and back.
And I am enjoying my time with them because I love them so so much!
But, I am just...
My personality has never been geared towards small people.
And just because I love my small people with every ounce of me. And just because they could never do anything to make me stop loving them.
Doesn't mean its not totally, fully, and completely against my nature to do every single thing I do every single day for the last three years.
I have laid down my life for them. 
The life of what I like.
It is grueling.
I am a night person. /My babies are morning people, who just take forever to sleep through the night. (I get no sleep.)
I like quiet reading time. /Small people are so noisey.
I like learning TONS of new stuff all the time. / Small people need me to TEACH tons of old-to-me stuff all the time. (No time for new.)
I like alone time. / Small people want to be with me 24 hours a day. No weekends.
I like projects. / Small people like to try to cut themselves with my sewing scissors.
Bla bla bl. This post is getting too long.

SO Because of all that and more...
I'm JUST now starting to do more than just admit that to myself,
I'm starting to embrace it.
I'm starting to say: I'm not that lady.
I'm not the one who says that.
I will look back fondly.
But I will not want to go back.

I've never really fit a mold.
And I don't fit the new mom mold.
I don't get excited about baby clothes. At all. 
I love bigger kid clothes.
(Ok once again, I could go on, but this is WAY to long already.)

My bend is towards older kids, with big heart questions and needs and life quandaries. Not so much what color is this, and what shape is it? (But when they can start to get into teals, and tones of teals, then I'm pumped!)
And that's ok.
I keep telling myself.
Thats ok.
And I keep reminding myself.
They grow up no matter what I think. No matter what age I like. No matter what.
So I may as well look forward to growth.
AND I do.
And I DON'T feel like saying, "I wish they could stay this size forever."
And that's ok.


Cut back to Target lady.

I thought she was a college girl with start dust in her eyes. (Likely because she didn't have the mom-a-tude of lets get things done. She had the girl-a-tude of let's lean on this counter.)

So I said to her (after she said she wished she could stay that small forever), "But then you would never sleep."

I said it with freedom.
I didn't care.
And to be honest, I was a little bit bitter.
But... not really...
Because I was chanting quietly in the depths of my hear, "Its ok if you are happy they grow. God made them to grow."

I'm starting to get more ok with my real.
Like the fact that: Its hard. This motherhood thing. And the fact that I can be worn thinner than I knew I could be and still not tear apart. And being ok with the fact that, in that state I am not an optimist. And in that state I am not my best. But this is just a stage. I like being optimistic when I sleep. And someday I will sleep again.
But I no longer feel quite like I need to hide that right now I'm not my best. Like I don't feel so bad to say, "Hey look, I'm crabby right now. But I love my kids."

She replied to my statement by saying, not so much to me, as to the ladies beside her, "Mine always slept. Slept through the night. Slept her naps...."

At that point I could do nothing but smile a "Are you serious?" smile. Throw a hilariously careless thumps up at her and drag my poopy squirmy kids into the fitting room with me.

We need to learn how to up lift each other. Not out do eachother.

I didn't care if her baby slept and mine didn't. Truly didn't. My kids are MY kids. And if they don't sleep. I love them. I want them. And I don't want to trade. They could never sleep again, and I would keep on keeping on. And I would LOVE them.

I did care that she was so insensitive to respond that way immediately. (Like she needed to prove she had something over me to the people around her. Who I don't think cared at all.)

I just kept telling myself, "Its ok if small people aren't your thing. Your kids can not stay small people. They are made to grow."
(While Ruby ate my phone and Jasmine ran around screaming. And I just tried to figure out if I like the shirt or not. Despite not being able to look in the mirror.)


I wrote this ENTIRE blog post just to say.
I felt hilariously vindicated when Ruby (who generally speaking is happy go lucky) choice to scream her head off (and when she wants to -- she can let it rip!) while I was getting her back into the cart. And that was right at the same time when that women, who's baby slept through every night and every nap, and so she wished babies never grew --  had to take a phone call for Target.
She was definitely just as overwhelmed by Ruby's screaming as I was.

And I spent the rest of the day telling myself, "See how awesome it is that they grow."
And I keep wondering if maybe she got a little dose of too much baby herself?
Because I feel like she deserved it. :)


  1. I think you and I are peas in a pod. Thank you for writing this.

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