Seasons of Life

I am in a season of weariness. Working 2 jobs, raising 2 girls.

 Taking care of other people's children for a living is very fun and rewarding, but it also means that you experience the temper tantrums, potty training, the giant messes, the diaper changes, and the runny noses over and over again . . . times 8.

For most moms things come in phases. The "potty training" phase. The "tantrum" phase. The "not napping anymore" phase. For me it's perpetual; as soon as one child moves on from a phase another one usually enters it. Potty training has been a constant in my life for almost 10 years. So have all of the other "phases" that mothers of young children face.

 Some days by the time all of the munchkins go home, I am so bone weary from serving and caring for others all day that I feel like if I am required to do ONE more thing for one more person, there will literally not be anything left of me.

But I have 2 girls. 2 girls that had to share their mom with other children all day. Who had to wait their turn to sit on my lap. Who didn't get to hold my hand today on our walk. Who had to call "Mommy, mommy" more times than they should have before I was actually able to respond. 2 girls who watched me tend to a houseful of children all day long and have been waiting for my undivided attention.

So I push on, and force myself to keep going for them. I make a homemade dinner when I really just want to slap some peanut butter on bread and call it good enough. I read books to them even though I have already read many today, each time with a full lap and boney little elbows jabbing into me from either side. I change a diaper even though I've already changed 10. I clean up, do the dishes, and fold a load of tiny laundry even though my bed is calling me and the weariness is almost overwhelming.

And when I finally do crawl into bed, knowing that more of the same will be there to greet me in the morning . . . I remind myself it's just a season.

One day I will be in another season of life. One where there are no little fingers messing up my windows because a doggy is walking by or the garbage man is coming. No little voices calling me from the bathroom or diapers needing to be changed. No spoons being thrown on the floor, no cups of milk spilled across the table. There won't be any little voices chiming in while I read Dr. Suess, and there won't be 8 little pairs of rubber boots lining my entry way. One day I will go for a walk and it will just be me . . . no stroller for 6 being pushed and no tiny hands gripping mine on either side. One day my floors will not be strewn about with toys and when I clean something it will actually stay clean for more than 5 minutes.

And I know I will miss it.

So maybe today I sigh when I clean up the milk that is dripping from the table. Maybe I am not as patient as I should be when the 3 year old interrupts our story for the millionth time. Maybe I will feel frustrated as I wipe yet another perpetually runny nose or spend half an hour putting on snowsuits just for 15 minutes of sanity time in the frozen back yard. But I know that one day when it's all over, I will look back on this season I am currently in . . . and I will miss it.