Last night Sommer woke up 5 times between 10:30 and 3:30. I know, she needs to cry it out but it is hard to let that happen when she is sitting next to her door, blankets bundled in her arms and her door is right next to ours. And Eric woke up at 5 to go exercise. I kind of heard him leave and thought, "I've got 45 more minutes to sleep." I heard him come back and was half-awake, trying to talk myself into running, because it was my turn to go exercise. I asked about the weather and he informed me that it wasn't bad, a little windy. I was thinking it would be good practice for the race in a couple of weeks, running when I am already so tired, when I haven't slept enough. It was hard to talk myself into it. I finally sat up and cried for minute there on the side of my bed, feeling exhausted. And then I got up and got dressed and went out to run. I didn't go as long as I had planned the night before, but I went. And I was right in assuming that my other children wouldn't have let me sleep much longer anyway. When I returned at 6:45 the oldest 3 were all awake, Cannon and Laine snuggled into my bed. It was easier to see them that early after having exercised, but I can't say that I'm all bubbles of energy right now, I'm still tired.
And now, thoughts on something else, if you care to read on...
Monday night I watched most of Oprah. It was an episode about the Secret Life of Moms -- all the things that no one says out loud. I agreed on a lot of what was said, basically that motherhood is hard. They talked a little about the sacrifice of motherhood. It was supposed to be a forum, all these moms saying things that aren't usually said aloud. I know it was supposed to be helpful but I didn't feel helped. I think because it focused so much on what was hard about motherhood that they avoided talking about the joys of motherhood, how special it can be even through the exhaustion and messes and sacrifice.
So when I was running my thoughts went to a story that I heard this weekend told by the prophet of our church. It was about a woman who lived in Prussia who was forced to leave her homeland after the war. Her husband was killed in the war and so she walked, alone, with her 4 children, the oldest, a 7-year-old, pulling the wagon that held their posessions. Fall and winter came and one by one, her children died. She dug the graves of the oldest three with a teaspoon and when her baby died, she dug the grave with her hands. She wanted to die, but she didn't kill herself. She contined on her journey, found strength in her faith and I'm assuming that when she did finally die she was greeted by her children. It was so hard to listen to that story, I was picturing myself last year when my children were the same ages. I was nearing the end of my run when thinking about this and every few breaths would come out as a sob. I can't imagine facing that kind of loss. I'm so lucky and blessed that I have the 4 healthy children that I hoped for, that my biggest trial of the day was getting up to run, that I could go home and cry a little, a little for exhaustion, a little for grace, in my hot shower.
There are so many things on my to-do list, not just the daily things, but things I want to accomplish for myself in my life. I sometimes forget that being a good mom is the most important thing on my list. It really is such a short time that my children are really mine, and that is hard to remember as well. This morning it was easy to remember though. (And that's why I'm writing in my blog instead of engaging with my daughters!) And I do feel overwhelmed and inadequate quite a lot and motherhood seems hard. Like last week during spring break. I had plans fo us but it rained so much, even for Seattle, that we would do our little plans and then only half the day would be done and so we watched way too much tv.
I could go on, I'm not sure how to end this post, I've been interrupted from it many times over the past 2 hours. So I'll just finish with this: I'm glad I get to be a mom.