I am conscious that I’ve been doing a lot of complaining lately about how hard it is to be raising two kids and how different it is from having one kid or no kids. Rather than embracing my family, I’ve been saying a lot of things I’m not proud of. Mostly I say these things in social situations and somehow I’ve taken on a very woe is me attitude that I can imagine is not very becoming. I lament about how there’s not a lot of love between these two kids. I remark about how sometimes my husband and I just look at each other and wonder how this became our life. I’m often commenting about how mean and physical my older daughter can be to my younger daughter. I complain about what time they go to bed and what time they get up. I talk about how little the big one eats and how the little one eats so fast she’s done before I even start on my own dinner. I’m a party pooper.
The fact of the matter is that life is darn good around here. No one is sick. School is starting back up soon which means I get my family back to my beloved routines. Summer has been amazing – mild weather, lots of friend and family time, relaxing weekday mornings now that I have a new job with later hours, lots of backyard time, and lots of things to learn like swimming and big girl bike riding. I really have nothing to complain about, so why do I do it? Ugh, who knows, but I want to STOP.
When people ask me how I am, I desperately want to remember to think about that feeling of being super woman or super mom. You know that feeling don’t you? Maybe it’s different for all of us. For me it’s being all prepared to go somewhere and getting out the door quickly and on time. It’s making lots of plans for an afternoon, probably too many, but still telling myself I can do this, even though I have two tired little kids. It’s accomplishing everything on my to do list plus one more (big) thing like cleaning out the cars. It’s staying out past bedtime at a kid friendly party, getting PJs on before getting in the car and coming home to put two sleeping kids to bed. It’s making it to yoga with my husband two weeks in a row. It’s cooking something with my four-year-old daughter and seeing her pride at making her dad’s lunch for his first day back to school. It’s making enough food for the week in one Sunday afternoon. It’s a deep sigh and a big stretch at the end of a great, friend filled weekend. It’s feeling like we’re living life again, not just like we’re surviving life. It’s all good. Life is good. My girls are good. Do you know the feeling I’m talking about? What is it for you? Am I nuts?