Wound Tight Mother

I feel like the last few days have been nothing but run, run, run.  As soon as we heard that his ANC was high enough, we jumped up to clean and pack.  We jammed everything in the car, jumped in the car, and blazed down to Utah.  While there we tried to see everyone, but ultimately only had time for our two immediate families.  I had 100 people I wanted to see, but that just didn't happen.  When visiting Utah, that is when I have the biggest pull to move back to Utah.  And then Brennon's asthma kicks in full force and makes the decision for me.  I really do have a love/hate relationship with wind.

 Since we've been home, we unpacked the Yukon and just put everything on the kitchen counter.  And sat down.  Sprawled is more like it.  It felt SO good to be home.  To know that we are done.  That this time it is 100% done!  To know that there will only be day trips to Seattle instead of week trips.  To know that on Thursday we have a full day at the hospital.  I am actually giddy thinking of taking them all with me.  They may whine and complain, asking when we can go home, but I really want them to see that we didn't play or live-it-up when we were in Seattle.  That sitting in the hospital for hours was normal.  And boring.  And hard.  And sad.  That you see kids suffering far worse than you.  That you see mothers that look more tired than you.  And that we need to be grateful for our lives.  It's going to be a day that they will, hopefully, never forget.

 Every day has been planned to the absolute minute.  It is quite different from how I've spent my last few months.  I may have had many appointments that kept us in place for many hours, but when those appointment ended, we went back to the RMH and sat in our room for days.  So, to have multiple things to do and accomplish in one day, other than just one place, has been a challenge.  I find myself wanting to just go home.  To sit in the house that still has stuff on the kitchen counter and just play with my kids.  To just hold them in my arms, kiss their sweet cheeks, and just bask in their sunshine.

I remember a time when I felt suffocated in this house.  Often.  I would envision myself simply walking out the door without a backward glance the moment Randy walked in from out-of-town.  I would think about not even telling him where I was going, or when I was coming back.  I'd turn off my cell phone to have absolute silence.  I would imagine going to a restaurant of my choosing, ordering anything that I wanted, eating it the second it came without worrying if so-and-so had theirs cut.  I would moan as the first bite that entered my mouth was not only amazingly delicious, but also the perfect degree of warmness.  Because I was so overloaded with sounds in my head, I would appreciate the silence, never being sad that I didn't have a dinner partner.  Then, I'd go see a show that I'd been wanting to see.  I'd sit in the exact center of the theater, center of the row.  I'd pull up my feet and enjoy the dark before the show.  I'd enjoy the show without worrying that the kids were bored, or talking, or needing to go to the bathroom.  I'd simply watch the show without a glance to either side.  It would be wonderful.  My night would not end with the rolling of the credits.  Oh, no!  I'd walk out of the theater and straight into the book store.  I'd slowly walk through the isles, looking at the blurbs about what the books were about.  I'd look for the perfect one, purchase it, find a comfortable spot, and start my literary adventure.  Without interruption of any kind until the store closes.  But the night would not end then, either.  Since it's been hours since my amazing meal, I now need something sweet- Frozen Yogurt it is.  I'd get a little more than I normally would, I'd earned with after all.  By the time I made it home, Randy would have the kids in bed, the house completely clean, the candles lit, the soft music playing, and be anticipating my arrival to give me a massage.  He'd quietly listen, while massaging, as I told him of my overwhelming sense of suffocation with all that is required of me.  How sometimes I just need a break from life.  How sometimes a night out doesn't feel like enough.  That a week in Hawaii may not be enough.  And then he would hug me, tell me I was doing an amazing job as a wife/mother/housekeeper.  And since it was always a daydream, he'd allow me to go to bed super early and wake up super late.  I always feel tired, after all.

But today I feel different.  I still have dishes, laundry, bathrooms, vacuuming, meal prep, and all other responsibilities that I need to do.  Those things are not going to just disappear because we went through a huge trial.  Dang it!  But my focus of what is really important in my day-to-day has changed.  I know I still need to do those things, that they will wait around forever for me, but I'm not worried about getting them all done in one day.  I'm not as worried that if someone stops by unexpectedly and sees the mess we are living in.  I imagine that they will not be able to look past the love I am getting from my kids being held in my arms. They will not see the heaping kitchen sink because they will be distracted by the giggles from my children.  I was lost before.  I forgot, without really realizing it, how short a time we have with our kids.  And not just kids that may die, but all kids.  I was married 23 days after I turned 19.  If the same holds true for my own daughter, I only have 8 more years and a few days with her in my home.  That is not enough time to do all that I want with her.  Childhood is not enough time to do all that I want if my only goal is a clean house.

I read an article today that touched me.  It was about a tightly wound mother.  I felt that way.  I felt like I couldn't turn off my brain to sleep thinking of all I had to do.  Thankfully, things have changed for me.  I know that it's the complete lack of sleep for the past few months that has me instantly asleep the moment my head hits the pillow, but I hope it's a permanent change as well.  Because I want to put aside my own OCD needs of a perfect house and focus on what is really important.  My neglected, starved-for-mommy babies.  I'm grateful for the reminder I was given.  I'm grateful I have been given five amazing children to rear and love.  I don't want to lose sight of them again.

The article ended, "Isn't it funny how parenting works out?  It's just so loud, even when you are asleep.  You can never turn parenting off.  It's a good thing it's what we always wanted, isn't it?"