Childhoodtake2!

Around my 8th month of pregnancy, for both kids, sleeping was getting 30 minutes at a time because both of my kids decided pressing directly on my bladder was good fun.
I remember that last month and thinking that newborns can't even be this bad.
And, thank goodness I was right, because you both came out knowing that our family had a love affair with sleep and you fell right in.

But as you grew, and the more sleep we all got,
the more and more my mind, my body, everything actually hurts from exhaustion.

I think it starts with all the feelings that come along with raising tiny humans
and then you add all of the concerns
and as you both continue to grow so do my feelings and those concerns.

I don't remember moms talking about this amount of exhaustion.
Every book, every mother I talked about the experience, all of the advice I got about cherish each day and you'll miss every stage,
no one ever said,
listen to me, the second you are able to actually sleep through the night is when every part of you wants to cry because you are so tired, you feel like you can't do it anymore.

But somehow we all manage to find the strength to wake up at 1am because someone is sick
or find love and patience somewhere to ride out a storm
or find love and patience somewhere to watch you tantrum
or find love and more patience somewhere else to always be able to love you.
Because that too takes energy,
the one thing we are lacking at this time.

Because this level of exhaustion has a way of killing your joy
and your ability to feel love.
This level of exhaustion takes away your patience and your ability to remember how small they are,
how little they know
how much they need you during the storm.
And god, this level of exhaustion pushes love out of your heart.
And still, we find a way to keep going.
Keeping putting our arms around you and we keep pulling you in.
When, if we are being a little honest with ourselves, we would be better off to go away,
and scream into the storm, you are not taking me with you!
I can't be a part of this right now and I just want a time out too!
But we find this never ending energy, for you.
And that is because we don't get a time out.
We are allowed a day off from you or this.
And it isn't that we didn't know that going into this journey,
it's just that we didn't realize how much of us would be this so very tired.

But, what if we did allow ourselves that time out?
What if for once instead of leaning in to the storm, we just walked away,
took 10 minutes in our own blanket fort and found an ounce more of us.
A clear thought so that our words can be gentle.
A clear mind so that our arms extend out to bring you in, not push you away.
What if we all allowed ourselves to say, of course we will always love you,
but that never meant I had to lose me in the process.

Little ones, you don't even know this, but my love for you is so intense it keeps me up.
You don't even realize this but, my worry for you, like my love is never ending.
And that can make for one tired mom.
But she promises to find moments of quiet,
so that she can be the person you set out to find.
Your tired mom promises to sit in that quiet, pull it over her like a warm blanket so she can find the energy for you and her.

Every Friday we unite for five minutes to write on one word. Only five minutes, that's all we get, that's all we have. And then, right where we are, no edits or second-thoughts, we publish those words. This week, we write on now.
Go.

The one place I do not live in.
Because I am forever looking back, or forward.
Forever wishing I had a redo, or worried of what is to come.
Unable to sit in the now.
With the time I am currently in,
because I am either holding on, not wanting to move ahead, or 20 steps ahead.
I do not sit in the present and move with you all.
The now.

And on this last Five Minute Friday of 2016
when my world is a bit of a blur
I have no one but me to fix.
Because it is difficult to love when holding on to the past and worried of the future.
It is difficult to find joy too.
It is difficult to breathe when you live in those two opposing worlds and cannot sit with where you are.

Each year, I make a promise to myself for the following year.
Some call it a resolution, I call it more of a healing of me.
In 2017, my promise is to take what is coming in the now, yes I am a planner and need that plan ahead of me
yes, I am sentimental and love the memories behind me
but this year, I will sit with all that is in front of me, and stop.
To be with each of you
and each of us
right where we are
in the now.

Because now is when I have started my new business.
Because now is when I have a 7 and 4 year old, that even if they are not babies, are children that need me.
Because now is when my husband and I are turning towards each other and trying to hold on to who we are today,
building on who we were yesterday so we can be us tomorrow.
Because now is when our lives are dangerous and risky, but we are taking chances on us.
Because now is when we are a family of four.
Because now is when I am needed and loved and I need and love you all too.

This year, my healing is more love, inward and outward.
Allowing more love in and giving more love out.
And I will only be able to do that if I sit in the now.

I will be with you all, here, today.
I will tell you stories about yesterday in a hope that you realize how important and warm those memories are for all of us.
I will plan for the future because that is who I am.
But I will be here, today,
sitting surrounded by all of you,
in the now.

“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”

It's one of your favorite books to read.
You bring it along for car rides, you ask for it at night.
To me, it's long, so it's not my go to for us.
Because at the end of the day, this tired mother wants some time to regroup and recharge.
But recently, whenever I pick it up, I can't help but feel that little bunny is speaking to all of us.
Somewhere, somehow, at some point, we all became real.
You stopped being mush in my hands.
You stopped doing anything I needed and wanted because all I had to do was place you somewhere.
You stopped not having an opinion and you became real.
And somewhere between changing diapers and listening to you talk about your day, so did I.

I became a little too soft around the edges, frayed in areas.
I don't look the same, I don't feel the same.
My hair is no longer shiny, and never was a priority, so certainly isn't now.
My appearance was never something I thought I did well,
so I gave up on even wanting to look a certain store front way.
And I became real.
Which means my stitches are a little loose.
I am a little thin and showing some of my seams,
because I am not at all who I once was and you made me real...
just by loving me.

We have stayed up all night to hold you while you cough.
We have slept upright so you could breathe through your flu.
We have held you while medical experts work on you.
We have fed you, with our bodies, with our love.
We have worked with you on homework and skills.
We have stood at doorways and waved goodbye to the eager child desperate to move on to the next milestone.
We have waited for the bus to pull away before breaking down to cry at another loss of you.
We have taught you how to go to the bathroom and how to blow your nose.
We have given you your medicine, never forgetting you.
We have taught you how to be gentle but still stand up for you.
We have put you first, even when we didn't want to, even when we knew it was bad for us.
We have given up our desserts and our last bite that we were saving for ourselves.
We have given up our days for you.
We have started traditions for you, ones we hope you carry with you.
We have read so many stories, fighting through exhaustion.
We have taught you to talk and then speak with kindness.
We have taught you to walk and give you the freedom to run.
We have held your hand, always and always will.
We have taught you that love will fix the broken.
We are raising tiny humans and we have watched you become real.
And with all of that, you made us real too,
just by loving.

We are weathered
we are not the same
we never will be again.
We have bruises and are banged up
because we are loved so hard
and we were made to be real.

“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”

Every Friday we unite for five minutes to write on one word. Only five minutes, that's all we get, that's all we have. And then, right where we are, no edits or second-thoughts, we publish those words. This week, we write on crave.
Go.

When I was pregnant with you Anna, the biggest craving that I had was for egg...scrambled to be specific.
Seven years later, I not only hold on to that memory and laugh at how much I ate, but I still could fall face first into a plate of scrambled eggs and eat my way out.
With you Cole, nothing specific, just food and as much of it as I could get.
I remember second breakfast, second lunch.
I remember not being able to make it from home to office without stopping for food, feeling if I didn't the starvation would end me.
And you came out just the same.
Hungry, all of the time.
Wanting anything, everything, food is your pleasure and without it, you crumble.

As the years went by, and motherhood set it, so did loneliness.
Because raising tiny humans is hard, and loud and isolating.
In a world where we all feel connected through a screen, we are forgetting that genuine connection keeps you sane.
And so, there was a different craving.
One for community, connection, friendship, and framily.
Because my connections were all over but not a single one was close by and not a single one could I hug when I needed to.
I needed to find my circle, I needed to find someone I could tell my all, and I needed to open my family up to others.

The craving, it wouldn't go away, because as the loneliness started to take over, the days were deafening.
Everywhere I turned, I felt that others had someone.
Everywhere I turned, I felt like I didn't belong here or there.
My circle wasn't complete, I needed more than the four walls we built,
my craving was getting stronger.

Until one day, it all clicked again.
And this tired mom of two
the one pushing 40
the one who is so hurtful to herself and too harsh
found a friend.
And like a child, my heart actually sang.
Just yesterday, we were talking about how many of us have this craving but are so isolated.
She decided to do something about it and open up her home and introduce people to one another.
Because family needs framily
to be reminded of the silly and the crazy.
To be genuine and authentic.
To show the real you, the one that is still in pjs at 3pm.
The one that doesn't ever do her hair unless she has to.
The one that would live in workout clothes.
The one that feels that yoga pants are "one step below black tie".
The one that gets angry with her kids.
The one that shows the good, bad and ugly of parenting because nothing is perfect.
The one without makeup covering anything up.
Cravings are intense, they make you get up out of bed at 3am to find that thing you desperately want.
They make you keep going until you find exactly what you desire.

Stop.