7.04.2015

Not How I Planned It

Our 4th of July weekend is not going as planned. 
We've had a sick baby, but I have no idea what she's sick with. Cory randomly decided to try taking her off her reflux medicine -- cold turkey. So during lunch on Thursday she was a little whiny and didn't eat much and I assumed her reflux was bothering her. Then in a matter of one hour she was all out trying to kill everyone. She got a fever and never wanted to leave my side, but had no other symptoms. Yesterday she spent the entire day (12.5 hours to be exact) screaming and crying and wanting to be held, or sleeping. It was hell. But her fever broke before dinner and she's a little better today but something is still bothering her. She's drooling like mad so I don't know if it's reflux or teething or just a bug she caught. Either way it sucks and I've had zero time to get anything done. I hate the guessing game with babies. Hate it. 


My kids always manage to get really sick at the worst possible times. It's always a holiday or really busy time, they always have their worst days while Cory is working so I have to try and survive on my own, and help is usually out of town. I sound like a baby, I know. But I was not blessed with patience. It doesn't come easily for me in the slightest. Plus, as a mother, it kills me to see my kids in pain. So whenever intense bouts like this hit us, it's always really tough on me emotionally. That's why I'm terrified to have any more kids. 


Last night Cory got home after 7 pm and I needed to run to the grocery store. He watched the kids so I could go and get away for a bit. I pulled into the parking lot, shut off the car, and started bawling. I had survived 12.5 hours of screaming, whining, being clawed at, and an entire day where I didn't get to eat, shower, and only made it to the bathroom once. Every break I did get I had to tend to Kennedy's needs or tackle a little more on the house since we are listing it in 3 days, just to have my work destroyed by the kids. I sat in the parking lot feeling a huge weight of stress on my shoulders; so much it was hard to breathe. 


We have a lot going on. It's been really hard and yesterday was just a painful, difficult day. I sat there and genuinely hated my life. I hated that everyone else in my town was enjoying 4th of July festivities and I was grocery shopping and going to bed before 10. I hated that grocery shopping alone had become my "escape" and a way to unwind. I hated that my baby was hurting and I couldn't help her. I hated that Cory has to be gone for so long each day. I hated that I got zero time with Kennedy and when I got home she would go to bed and I would have spent an entire day not getting to play or laugh with her. I was pretty miserable. 


I remembered the first time I felt this way after having Kennedy. I felt like something was seriously wrong with me. It wasn't until she was a year old and I was talking to some other moms that I found out these feelings are normal. We all have them from time to time. 90% of my life is cleaning up messes again and again, getting things for other people, and more cleaning. It's hard to feel fulfilled and happy doing that. It's hard to find joy in the repetitive tasks of the day. It's hard to love being a mom when you're being yelled at that the milk you just poured isn't chocolate milk, and your baby is grinding up peas and mandarin oranges that she dropped from her high chair into the floor you just mopped, because you haven't had a chance to clean them up yet. Sometimes, being a mom just SUCKS. 


BUT...


Sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes, after a long day, all it takes is to hear the words "Good night, I love you," come from Kennedy's mouth as I tuck her in to erase the nightmares of the day. Sometimes it's giggling with Cory as we check on them before bed and they're sleeping in hilarious positions. Sometimes it's the 10 minutes chasing Brynlie and hearing her gut-busting laugh that makes the days where I break down in the car worth it. Sometimes the kisses and hugs make me so happy I feel like I might explode into a gross mess - a mess that I would somehow have to come back to life and clean up. 


I'm learning that when kids are little, the "worth it" moments don't come as often. They're definitely overpowered by the moments where I question why I ever wanted a life like this. But as Kennedy has grown, and even Brynlie, the moments come more often. I get more of life's special treats to remind me that there is no life better than this. There is no life more rewarding or as happy as this. It comes at a price, and takes a lot of sacrifice, but it is the life. Not the beach, not money, not even cookies. Being a mom is the life. 


So I know those days where I seriously consider running away in tears will continue to come. But I also know they will be cured by the days where I hug my children and get a little glimpse of what heaven will be like. Life isn't quite what I planned, but it's the life. Sickness and all. 

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