Four toddlers three and under were buckled into their carseats. Sippy cups and snacks were reachable and I felt a bit uneasy about my 1.5-hour solo trip as I remembered once diving into the way-back of a Ford Explored to save a child who was choking on a piece of Kleenex. Fast forward eight years and a move “home” to my family and it’s not uncommon for their to be 13+ kids at my house.
Although our grocery bill seems to cost more than our home these days, at least we don’t have to change diapers or fight with multiple stupid carseats in Walmart parking lots when it’s 104 degrees outside. Although our kids now have homework that is beyond my expertise, I no longer have to fight for space with sometimes three children who crawled into bed with us in the middle of the night. Although I now have to listen to music that would have never touched one of my playlists, I sometimes get to hear these loads of children shouting the lyrics to some pretty incredible songs.
When I had one child it was rough. When I had two children flying as a solo mom, life was rough. When I had three children and an incredible husband who was in CLEET/deployed to Houston for what seemed like far too long, it was rough. When I had four children. Rough. But now when I ship off some of them to friends’ or grandparents’ houses and have just one, I think why in the world did I ever think one was hard.
Kind of like lifting weights. When you start, sometimes five pound dumbells seem heavy, but, continue, and one day you’ll be lifting significantly more and five pounds will seem like nothing. Start running after taking 13 years off and two minute of running feels impossible, but, continue, and one day you’ll wonder how in the world that was ever challenging. Plank for four seconds after having a baby and you’ll think you’ll never have a core again, but, continue, and one day you’ll knock out well beyond that.
We become accustomed to these new conditions. Maybe thinking there’s no way we can handle them at the beginning and then eventually looking back and realizing how much growth has taken place. Realizing the strength you possess. Realizing you are now a tad-bit-more-seasoned-momma who’s telling the new mommas with carseats and diapers that you understand and hang in there (but not being the one to say “you’ll miss this” because you and she both know it, but know that she won’t believe you yet because all she wants right now is an un-rushed shower, a full night of sleep, and to use the bathroom without little people barging in through the doors).
So regardless of what rough part of life you are in right now, continue. One baby step at a time. Eventually you will become accustomed to the new conditions. Before you know it, maybe you’ll be looking back and appreciating the strength you showed. Maybe it was moving a recliner out of a house, down some stairs, and to the curb by yourself that helped you realize there’s some deep down stubbornness and strength that only God could’ve given you. Maybe it’s powering through nights when babies believe they are nocturnal. Maybe it’s walking down a road you never intended or desired to travel, yet you are, by the goodness of God, trudging with grace.
Life passes so quickly. The good. The bad. The in between. It’s weird. Enjoy the parts you can and know all of those rough parts will eventually remind you of some incredible strength.
Those four kiddos in the car eight years ago are now, with their four additional siblings/cousins, are running down my halls like crazy people and starving so I suppose I’ll go feed those cute little punks that have made my life pretty spectacular.
Bye friends.
P.S. Here’s the playlist that made my heart happy as I wrote this blog. (Note: I didn’t pay attention to the lyrics so I have no idea what’s actually beyond the tunes.)