Giving thanks, but not Thanksgiving

As this is the month of Thanksgiving, I've been pondering the giving of thanks (deep, right?). I'm terrible about sending thank you notes. I always have been, and I probably always will be. In fact, I think I've got some still laying around from when I got married 5 years ago.

Anyway, the point:
I've decided to blog a giant thank you note to everyone that has helped me out in the past little while. So, here goes.

Thank you for listening.
Thank you for being a friend.
Thank you for the meals.
Thank you for not judging me.
Thank you for making me smile.
Thank you for watching my boys so I could have some time away.
Thank you for the words of encouragement.
Thank you for crying with me.
Thank you for the hugs.
Thank you for the advice.
Thank you for the naps.
Thank you for smiling at me.
Thank you for telling me it'll get better.
Thank you for reminding me to enjoy today.
Thank you for your patience.
Thank you for enduring my never-ending stream of pictures and stories.
Thank you for letting me talk about nothing but my children.
Thank you for not staring when we're all collectively losing it in the grocery store.
Thank you for holding my hand on hard days.
Thank you for telling me how beautiful my kids are.
Thank you for telling me how beautiful I am.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, and thank you again. Words cannot express my gratitude at being blessed by the wonderful people in my life.

How's it Going?

"So, how's it going?"

I have heard this question more often than any other in the last few weeks. Everyone seems to ask how it's going. I wonder how many of them want an honest answer.

I know what people want to hear from a new mom (whether for the first time or somewhere further down the line). They want to hear about how fabulous it is. How your baby is an angel baby that sleeps through the night, eats like a champ, and has a sweet disposition. They want to hear that you've never felt better. That you're so star-struck with your new little one that you just want to look into his or her eyes all day.  They want to hear about how much your older child loves the baby. That he's a good helper who is always gentle and kind to the baby. People want sunshine and roses and sappy-happiness.

But here's the truth:

It kind of sucks. In fact, some days it sucks a lot.

I really do have an angel baby. He is mellow, happy, and content to just hang out. He loves to snuggle. He is a great sleeper... during the day. He eats like a champ, but he also spits up a lot.

The truth is that most of the time, I don't remember the last time I showered. I've worn nothing but yoga pants and old race t-shirts for almost a month now. And sleep? Forget about it. Between middle of the night feedings, a 2-year-old that only naps sometimes, and a newborn that is possibly the noisiest sleeper EVER, I'm awake a lot. There are days that I wake up with a nervous pit in my stomach wondering how I'm going to survive the day until Greasemonkey gets home from work. And some days I'm hanging onto the sanity cliff by one little finger by the time he does get home.  The truth is that I cry. A lot. Some days we go run fake errands, just so the boys will both be strapped into their car seats and I don't have to entertain for a little while.

The truth is that T-Bone is angry. He hasn't asked me to send the baby back, but there have definitely been some hard feelings surface since we brought Little O home. He's been aggressive, defiant, and argumentative. The truth is that we spend a lot of time talking about good choices and bad choices, about how it's not ok to hit/kick/bite/slap/lay on/ or abuse people. We spend a lot of time talking about how it's ok to be angry and sad sometimes.

I don't want to give the wrong impression. I love my boys. I love them more than anything else in the whole world. But being a mom is hard. It will test every limit you can think of. It is tiring emotionally, physically, and mentally. And sometimes it sucks. Sometimes it sucks a lot.

So, if you ask me how it's going I'll probably paste on a smile, lie, and tell you how I've never been happier. Just know that sometimes what I'm really saying with my eyes is, "This sucks, and I could really use a chocolate donut."

On Motherhood

Having young children is not easy. Many days are just difficult.

~Elder Neil L. Andersen

With it being the Sharkbaby's first birthday so recently I've been doing a lot of reflecting on being a mother, but for some reason I have been having a terribly difficult time actually writing this post.

I started this phase of my life a little disillusioned. I was under the impression that motherhood would come naturally to me. I'd seen my friends transition effortlessly into the role of Mom. I'd watched people around me shower their children with love, affection, and kindness, all while setting up boundaries and discipline. I thought I could do it, too.

I spent my 40 weeks of pregnancy imagining how wonderful my life would be, how much joy this sweet little boy would bring to my life. I had hopes, dreams, and plans. I'm somewhat ashamed to admit that I had a list of "nevers." You know what I mean: I'll never get upset when my baby wakes up in the middle of the night, I'll never take my children home from church in the middle of the block, I'll never let my baby use a binky or a bottle after his first birthday. However, I'm not ashamed at all to admit that I've broken pretty much every "never" on my list.

Being a mom is hard. It is a never-ending; 24/7; day shift, night shift, swing shift job.

But being a mom is also so easy. When I hold that sweet little boy in my arms my heart fills with so much love I think I might burst. When he cuddles up on my lap at bedtime to read stories I feel more fulfilled than any other time in my life. When I see him smile and call out "Daaaa-deee" when his dad gets home from work, I experience a joy that I never knew existed. I think about him constantly. I pray without ceasing for him. I worry and I hope and I dream and I plan.

Motherhood has not come easily to me. I work hard at it every second of everyday. I cry, sometimes I yell, I lose patience, and I get so sick of singing "If you're happy and you know it" that I could puke.

But I wouldn't trade those sticky little hand prints on my fridge for the cleanest kitchen in the world. I wouldn't trade my stretch marks and loose skin for six-pack abs. I wouldn't trade the sleepless nights for a solid 8 hours.

I wouldn't trade this terrible, mixed up, crazy, emotional, wonderful, amazing, life-changing for anything.