All at once

I am tired. The kind of tired where you just wanna pull the covers over your head and sleep the day away. The kind of tired you experience after spending the week alone with your kids, two of which are sick, while your husband works in another state. The kind of tired that makes you feel guilty for feeling tired at all.

There is no time for tired, so the day starts like every other one this week. Three kids, pulling you in three different directions. Mom, MOM, mommy, MOM, ma, mommy, MMMMMOMMMMMM, ma, the out of tune chorus that sounds like cymbals clanging in my ears. I cringe and try to stay calm, but all I can think is when does it end?! 

Of course the answer is sooner than you want it to. Which for a moment makes me feels ashamed that was even a thought. How easy it is to forget that even these constant nagging little demands are a blessing. 

I know inevitably at some point I will miss these days. Well, not this particular day but you know what I mean. 

So often I wish that it wasn’t happening all at once. The good the bad, the joy the sad, the hard days and the ones you want to never end. It’s all happening at once, and it’s hard to know where one experience is starting and the other is ending. It’s overwhelming and almost disorienting. 

It’s the little things that make you pause. Like when your 4 year old stands up in the bath tub. That little body all covered in bubbles, leaves you breathless with wonder and sadness. Breathe in, how did something so beautiful and perfect come from me. Breathe out, when did he get so big. 

Caught in between counting the hours until bed time and wondering where the time went. Sometimes it feels like that last decade of these mothering years have been a blur of smiles and tears and find myself wishing that I never wished a second of it away. Because the best years, the time of my life is literally happening right now and i hate that even in knowing that it’s still sometimes hard to catch my breath and be as present as I’d want to be. 

My 3 babies, now growing boys. The oldest, too grown for comfort. He gives me glaring looks from the passenger seat (sigh) and mouths (STOP SINGING PLEASE) when his friends are riding with us. He no longer believes in Santa or gets filled with excitement when the toys r us Christmas book comes. Instead he surfs the net and looks for the latest fashion trends and begs for things beyond our budget. And I swear it all happened in a blink. I look at his changing face, not a hair out of place and my eyes fill with tears. I can barely see that chubby blue eyed babe he used to be. These bittersweet moments, one of too many (and more to come) make my heart ache. 

It’s a strange place to be, longing for the time when the weight of a baby in your arms felt like heaven while being completely wrapped up in the people they are growing into. Wanting them to hurry up and slow down, again all at once.