Some days, in spite of my best efforts, I just can’t seem to accomplish anything worthwhile. My day is a long string of changing diapers, picking up messes, making food, feeding kids, cleaning up the food (and then the kids), putting them down for naps and getting them back up again, making more food and of course the required cleaning up, picking up the same toys I picked up that morning, and then finally taking off the clothes that are now covered in all the food I made, putting them in their (hopefully mostly) clean pajamas, and putting them to bed. Only to do a bit more cleaning and fall in bed, exhausted, with another day of just the same to look forward to when I wake (assuming, of course, that TJOM3 sleeps through the night and I do get to sleep until my waking hour). And as I fall asleep, in those few brief seconds I have to myself before my brain shuts down to recover for a few hours, I wonder why I did what I did that day? Why do I continue to subject myself to the same routine, day in and day out, with little to no thanks and few pleasures to make it seem "worth it"?
Some days, I don’t know why I get out of bed. I don’t know why I keep on doing what I keep on doing. I wonder if there really can be a point to all of this, and if there really is life outside these 4 walls that have become my world. Are there still people out there in the great beyond? Do they really still exist? Or am I the last adult in a dead race, raising the last few children on earth? My phone rarely rings, though I have come to expect my morning phone call from a certain ghost: I’m cleaning up from breakfast around 10 or so (yes – it takes that long, by the time we’ve eaten, gotten dressed, and dropped TJOM1 off at school, gotten back, put TJOM3 down for her nap, and finally (joy of joys!) Sesame Street has started and I can get around to cleaning up breakfast) anyway – I’m cleaning up from breakfast and the phone rings. I pick it up. "Hello?" I say. Silence. "Hello?" Again, silence. A little exasperated: "Hello?" Still nothing. "Ok – I’m hanging up now." And I do. It has become so routine now that I suppose I would miss it if my ghost stopped calling.
So anyway – as I was saying – my phone rarely rings. My doorbell is even more silent than my phone. And so I wonder – do people still live on earth? Or have they all moved to the moon? Maybe I’m living in some sort of contrived world, like Jim Carey in The Truman Show. You’d think I’d get out of the house often enough to convince myself otherwise. But you have to realize what I’m dealing with here – I have 3 small children: the oldest is 4, then there is the 2-year-old, and the baby who just passed 10 months. So my day goes like this: I wake up at 6. Work out until 7:30, shower and get dressed until 8, nurse the baby until 8:20. Feed the kids breakfast, then throw everyone in the car to run the 4-year-old to preschool. We get back just in time for the baby’s nap at 9:45. She goes down, the 2-year-old watches Sesame Street, and I clean up breakfast and make dinner until 11. Read some books to the 2-year-old until about 11:15, then wake up the baby, throw both little kids in the car, and we’re off to preschool to retrieve the big kid. We get back and I nurse the baby, then make lunch for everyone. We finish eating, and it is nap time for the 2-year-old. Once he is in bed, the 4-year-old watches an hour of TV and goes to her room for "nap time" (which essentially means she stays in her room and does whatever she feels like (I asked her to read for that hour but I don’t think she does), but does it quietly). During nap time for the big kids, I clean up lunch, continue working on dinner or cleaning or doing laundry or whatever the project is for that day, and then nurse the baby again. Put her down for her nap just as nap time ends for the big kids. Then she sleeps until almost dinner time, while I finish up last minute dinner preparations, feed the big kids their snack, and read books or play with them until about 5:15. At this point Daddy comes home, we eat dinner, Â throw the kids in the tub, get PJs on, read scriptures, have prayers, story time, I nurse the baby again, and all 3 go to bed. And then the next few hours I spend (my own choosing here so I guess I can’t complain too much) with my husband, hanging out or cleaning the house or doing one of our "projects" (a whole other story for another day…) and then I fall into bed, exhausted, and feeling like I accomplished ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. And having seen, outside my own immediate family, ABSOLUTELY NOONE. And some days, it is hard for me to believe there is life outside my home, and that I have accomplished anything worthwhile.
Realize that one of my goals in life is to contribute to the world. I want to leave a mark somewhere, on someone, for good. And somehow, changing 5 stinky diapers in one day just doesn’t seem to me to be leaving a mark (at least, not the kind I’m looking for). I know, I know, raising kids is a worthwhile endeavor, and of course it is a benefit to the world if I raise my children well. But still – it doesn’t feel like much while I’m scrubbing the sink and trying to get the crayon and pen marks off the walls (which, by the way, reminds me that I fully endorse the Magic Erasers from Mr. Clean that you can buy at the grocery store. How did my ancestors not kill their children without those???).
But then there are the times when I realize I know why I do what I do every day. These moments are often few and far-between, but they do come, and it really does remind me how much I love what I do. Take today, for instance: I’m sitting on the couch reading books to my kids (breakfast hasn’t been cleaned up yet, but hey – they asked me to read and honestly, reading to my kids takes priority over my clean kitchen, even if I am a neat freak) and instead of what I’m used to (which is TJOM2 yelling at TJOM1 "No! Mine!" and a bit of hitting or biting), I see TJOM2 put his arm around TJOM1’s neck and he says "I wuv you, E-ca" which, if you have learned to translate Isaac-ese means "I love you, Erica" and just about melts my heart. She turns to him and smiles and says "Thanks, Isaac" and my eyes tear up. THESE are the moments I cherish. This is why I do what I do.
And then there are other times. We’re driving in the car to take TJOM1 to school, or home from school, or going to the store for more diapers (since I changed 750 diapers today we ran out, again) or wherever we happen to be going. And of course, TJOM3 is fussy. She doesn’t like driving in the car since we went to Utah last week – 5 hours in the car without a break will do that to a baby. But anyway. We’re driving in the car, and she’s fussy. I try to tune it out, because since I’m driving there’s really not all that much I can do about it. I try to talk to her and she cries louder. But then TJOM1 and TJOM2 start making faces at her, laughing, and talking to her. And before I know it, the screaming has turned into giggling. And my drive to or from wherever I’m going doesn’t seem so bad. I realize that they do love each other, and that they do want to be nice to each other. And where did they learn to do this? I honestly don’t know, but I hope at least some of it can be attributed to what they see at home. I hope that my children do sweet things because they are learning them at home.
So even though I feel very much like I accomplish little in my time here on this planet Earth, I am blessed with wonderful children who do occasionally decide to remind me why I do what I do. And for that I’m truly thankful. Because without them, I might not remember just how much I love my life. So thanks, kids. You really are The Joys Of Motherhood.
