Ornery Mom

Every time I have a post written, life throws an unexpected little curve ball and I don't end up posting it, either because I decide that it is too personal or because I decide that its too something or other. Yesterday was a venting one. Now, after a good nights sleep, I will change up what I write about a little.

I am an ornery Mom. Just lately. I've never been a yeller (well, since reaching adulthood. Don't talk to my parents about my teenage years. This will just dispute everything I ever write about). But lately, I seem to be on edge. Perhaps it's the potty training that has been going on for three months. We still had five accidents yesterday. That should explain that. Perhaps it is the fact that life seems to be throwing us a lot of lemons lately. I miscarried at the beginning of May and just can't seem to shake it. Everyone keeps telling me that most women go through it. I do not dispute this. But for some reason, I am really having a hard time with this. I'll be fine for a week. But then yesterday I figured out that we would know if it was a boy or girl this week if the baby had survived. It made me cry. It made me wish for someone to talk to and then it made me feel guilty.

But anyway, back to being an ornery Mom. I feel bad, but my little guy has been spending a lot of time on time-out lately. I think he is feeding off of our stress. He is such a good boy, but he has been picking on his little sister like crazy this week. Every time I turn around he is tackling her or jumping on her or pulling her off of the couch. This is probably very normal for a three year old. I just have never had a three year old. After the kids were in bed last night, I felt awful. I felt so overwhelmed with raising these two precious gifts. I felt so scared that I am messing them up irrevocably. My husband tries to remind me that I'm doing great. He comes from a family of yellers (not necessarily in anger. They are just a loud group. Let me be the first to admit, when my husband is with them, HE is the loudest.) and he is always pointing out that he and the other seven kids that are grown and out of the house are all fine and upstanding citizens. He also points out that no Mom is perfect. My mother-in-law is super woman. She raised ten kids (she is still raising the last two) and she stayed sane. Or as sane as any woman with ten kids can be. :) But he reminded me that both she and my mom had rough days where they popped in a movie and let the kids entertain themselves. He reminded me that every once and a while, it's okay to give them a cookie for breakfast and not have to fight with them. But when you are the mom going through it, you feel like a failure.

So today, I am counting my blessings. I really do understand that my kids will grow up way too fast. Pretty soon, my G man won't come up to me and say "I just love you, Mom." He won't think holding Mom's hand is the best part about going shopping with me. I love holding his hand. He is my best buddy and I can't think of anything better than getting to be his Mom. There will be a time when he will pretend he doesn't know me. There will be one morning when he wakes up and decides that cuddle time with Mommy is dumb. I don't look forward to that day. Hopefully, by then, there will be other little kids who think it still rocks. There will be a time when my Rally girl will say the dreaded words "I hate you" and my whole world will fall apart. So I am thankful for the sweet voice that hollers "Mama" until I come and get her out of her crib.

I am so grateful for eternal families. I am so thankful for having my husband by my side for eternity and not just this life. I wouldn't choose anyone else to share this journey with. I had someone tell me once that he was lazy. I can't see it. For the last three years, that man has worked two to three jobs at a time to make sure that we are taken care of. He has worked jobs that other people would think are beneath them. He has worked hours that would make people cry. Before we moved and he started teaching, there was a time when he was only getting about four hours of sleep per a night between his two jobs. He did this so that I could stay home and raise our two little munchkins. He is the hardest working man I know. Yes, when he is home, he doesn't want to necessarily weed the garden or mow the lawn. But not wanting to doesn't equate to not doing it. For that I am grateful. He is my perfect match. He is the love of my life and my best friend. At the beginning of the day, he is the person I am most excited to open my eyes and see. At the end of the night, his are the arms that I can't wait to hold me. I am so thankful that we have a partnership. I am so blessed.

For those that know my kids, they will admit that G man is all boy. He wants nothing more than to wrestle and play. He loves dinosaurs and building things and pretending to be a super hero. He got a cape for Christmas from his Aunt Krissy and I don't think he took that thing off for more than an hour or two in a week. He has been collecting rocks this week. I am so tired of finding little pebbles all over my front room floor. But it is better than the bugs he originally wanted to collect. The big nasty cricket he brought into the house almost made this mom puke. But I am thankful for his excitement over life. I am grateful that he misses his cousins and grandparents. It means he loves them. I am thankful for those sweet moments when he folds his arms, closes his eyes, and says his own big boy prayer. It means I'm not failing completely as a mother. It is one of those sweet moments in motherhood.

My Rally girl is the complete opposite of her brother. She is sugar and spice and everything nice. She is all girl. Even the way she holds her little legs when sitting in the high chair eating her breakfast is lady like. She constantly makes me laugh. She has the best smile in the world. The best kisses in the world. She thinks Mom is pretty awesome. There are moments when I wish she would let Dad be the comforter, but then her face lights up when I walk in the room and I am okay with being her favorite. Plus, then I get to brag to her dad that I am the favorite. Another blessing. :)

I am so blessed. We have each been given far more than we deserve in this life. With those blessings come trials. When I am on my knees, pleading for help, the furthest thing from my mind is my blessings. Yet my Heavenly Father, in his infinite wisdom, still sends them to me. I can never repay those or live to have earned those. I can only strive to be the woman He wants me to be. I can pray for more patience. I can pray for more peace. I can pray to get through the trials that will help me grow with grace and wisdom. One of my favorite sayings sits right above my sink. I always remember this every time it is dish time. "Blessings brighten when we count them." It is true. When I make a list of all of my blessings, I come to realize that the good in my life far outweighs the bad. I come to realize that even though we are farther from most of our family than I would like, we still have an amazing family. I have in-laws who have become my best friends. I have sisters who will cry on the phone with me. I have parents on both sides who would move heaven and earth to help us. That is pretty amazing. Most importantly, I have a Savior who is there, holding me up when I feel like I am going to fall. I have a Heavenly Father who hears and answers prayers. If they think I can do the hard things, I think that maybe I can, too.

Today, I start over again. Just like every day. And if ornery mom rears her ugly head, I can handle that too. Because my moments of pure bliss far outweigh the bad. Thank you, blessings, for reminding me of that.