Don't Carpe Diem

So I totally stole this from a link to blog that one of my facebook friends writes. And when I say facebook friend, I mean that we were in a ward together at some point, although I can't actually remember having a conversation with her. Anyway, I see her blog from time to time pop up on facebook, and it's usually fairly interesting.

Especially this article.

It literally made me laugh out loud. In case you don't actually want to read it, here's one of my favorite parts:

"I think parenting young children (and old ones, I’ve heard) is a little like climbing Mount Everest. Brave, adventurous souls try it because they’ve heard there’s magic in the climb. They try because they believe that finishing, or even attempting the climb are impressive accomplishments. They try because during the climb, if they allow themselves to pause and lift their eyes and minds from the pain and drudgery, the views are breathtaking. They try because even though it hurts and it’s hard, there are moments that make it worth the hard. These moments are so intense and unique that many people who reach the top start planning, almost immediately, to climb again. Even though any climber will tell you that  most of the climb is treacherous, exhausting, killer. That they literally cried most of the way up.

And so I think that if there were people stationed, say, every thirty feet along Mount Everest yelling to the climbers – “ARE YOU ENJOYING YOURSELF!? IF NOT, YOU SHOULD BE! ONE DAY YOU’LL BE SORRY YOU DIDN’T!” TRUST US!! IT’LL BE OVER TOO SOON! CARPE DIEM!”  - those well-meaning, nostalgic cheerleaders might be physically thrown from the mountain."

 Having just come home from the grocery store, I can feel for this woman. Ellie tries to climb out of the cart to get something in the back and somehow she has lost my grocery list (again). When I'm not looking, she  unzips my purse and  pulls out important (and sometimes embarrassing) things. Sometimes she doesn't like it when I put my hands on the cart to push it and then will yell at me. And all the time people that are walking past are looking at her and gushing "Oh, look at those eyes! Isn't she beautiful! Next thing you know she'll be all grown up! It goes by so fast!" 

For the most part, I love being a mom. My loving-it minutes very definitely outnumber my is-it-naptime-yet minutes. But sometimes it's just hard. I've cried more since I first got pregnant than I can even remember (although a lot of that can be blamed on hormones). The night before last I had the wonderful opportunity to earn a new "Mom badge", as Will called it. What did I do? I got to hold poor Ellie over a toilet so that she could throw up. Repeatedly. At 5:00 in the morning. After getting up with her at 4:00 and finding that she had thrown up in her crib. The second time we barely made it to the toilet. She threw up a couple of times and then snuggled back into my lap and said a sleepy "all done." My heart broke into little pieces right then and it was hard to feel sorry for myself and my lack of sleep when my poor baby was suffering. 

I thought that after I married Will, I just couldn't get any happier. Life was good! When Ellie was born, life became more difficult. We do less fun things, we get less sleep, we spend more money, everything takes twice as long, everything just changes. But everyday I can't help but think about how much I love my little family and, for the most part, I am happier than I was before. Just like I love Will and Ellie a little more every day, I get a little happier every day. Life is great!

Being a mom is a full time job. It's hard work, long hours, seemingly little immediate reward. But I love it.

Finally, I would like to end with a conversation (as best I remember it) from my brother, Jeff, and his sweet wife, Whitney. Jeff is a marine who recently finished Officer Candidate School (which is like a ridiculously horrible boot camp) and Whitney stays home with their two boys (who, at the time, were ages 3 and 2).

J: "Training today was horrible. People were yelling at me all day, nothing I did was good enough, and I even got spit on."

W: "Well, I got yelled at and spit on too. I'll feel sorry for you when you have to deal with other people's poop on a daily basis."

Amen, sister.