four is less than one
Ok, my math might be a titch off.
(Who's the teacher round here?)
I was, however, referring to having four kids. And the perspective I've gained since I had number one.
When I had Ella, I loved being a mom, love, love, loved it.
And yet I struggled.
Oh, how I struggled.
The introduction of mommy guilt and worry was a disaster to my system. Never again would I just worry about myself. My heart was now outside of my body. The middle of the night feedings were seemingly never going to end. Ever. I was positive I was going to walk around for the rest of my life in a sleepless coma. I would bounce between boredom and the weight of all the work.
Mothering wasn't supposed to be so hard.
What was I doing wrong?
And today, with four children...dare I say it? I almost feel I need to whisper it...
It feels easier than it felt with one.
Yes, I have more laundry and more people to cook for.
More spills that happen. And toys that need picking up.
More hearts to make sure are getting enough of my attention.
And the threat of a stomach bug is pretty much the end of the world.
(remember I said easier...not easy!)
But now...I worry, then move on.
I wake up to care for a baby in the middle of the night and I might sigh and maybe even cry from exhaustion, but I know it will pass. It really will pass.
I have helpers to throw diapers away.
I have helpers to make the baby smile.
I have helpers to put their own laundry away.
I don't care as much (ok, at all) that they have matching outfits on.
I've learned that my children are a reflection of me. But they are not me.
And a snot free nose is a bonus, not a necessity.
I'm broken in.
I'm not colliding against my former no-child self.
And I now know that mothering is hard.
And its not because I'm doing it wrong...
its because I'm (trying) to do it right.
On a side note:
I am in the middle of this book...
And I can't recommend it enough. For moms with any number of kids.