Even Julia Roberts

Her famous radiant smile poured into my living room as she chatted on an afternoon talk show. She spoke tenderly of her chickens, admitted the kind of television shows she loves are the ones she's embarrassed to watch in front of her husband ("the lack of intellectual depth is astounding") and she doesn't 'get' how all those "Housewives of Beverly Hills" have so much time to primp to such perfection. She said for her, it's a good day if she gets to brush her teeth. That announcement alone brought me great comfort.

It is because she is neither plastic, nor pretentious, but a real woman is why I love Julia Roberts. If she moved next door, I would invite her over for coffee and feel completely comfortable in doing so. She is just one of those far-off people that come across as one who could quite easily be near-and-dear. If Julia Roberts considers it a daily accomplishment to have her teeth brushed, then I just might be somewhat normal.

But this post is not about Julia. It's about..well..I do not exactly know myself yet.

 I do know that my life is incredibly rich with gift upon gift from God.

There is so little, if anything, that is worthy of complaint.

While that is true, there are still (most) days that mothering five toddlers leaves me desiring of something more, like sanity for instance.
Or a little less selfishness and a lot more patience.  

On Saturday, my husband put the twins and our sweet little hurricane (our two year old) in for their naps. (He has his way of doing things, and I have mine. I shouldn't have written that, for it doesn't matter that my way is more efficient and effective. It is wrong to point that out, so forgive me). An hour or so into their naps, I went upstairs to check on the littles, assuming they would all be soundly slumbering as they had been SUCH grumps that morning.

Instead, I heard all manners of whopping and hollering seeping out from under the twin's bedroom door which was closed ( a sure sign that something-or rather, someone else was involved). As I opened the door, a sudden hush fell upon the sun-soaked room (did I mention my husband and I do things differently, such as sealing up all windows until is as dark as a moonless night?). Soggy diapers strewn about the floor were in my path. The once fleece-pajama clad twins were stripped down to nothing but their birthday suits, as was their 'big' sister, who had freed them from all form of cloth and diaper. They had been having a high old time.

Until the old hag showed up.

My first reaction was 'WHY???????" with a big huff and a puff and a throwing up of the arms. But then, seeing the boys blue eyes crinkle up in the beginnings of a smile, thrilled with their 'free willy' state, I could not help but turn away and smile.

I turned away to go to the bathroom to retrieve more diapers and realized that indeed, my daughter had never taken a nap. She first started her 'room hopping' in her own bedroom, which is not where she usually naps. You might notice feces on the floor. There was another big chunk hidden under a Barbie dress, which I proceeded to step directly in. I was yelling downstairs to get either the four or three year old children down there to bring me a pack of wipes so I could resume securing the loins of my naked sons.

As I wrote on Facebook later, I sometimes feel like we live in a mini-frat house! (with only one 'by-the-book' student - my three year old daughter).

Life is not this extreme in circumstance every minute of every day, but it IS a near-constant circus that constantly challenges my default setting, which is SELFISHNESS.
It is a constant battle to give up what time and energy I thought was mine (even though it has not been mine for a few years now!), and lovingly serve my family.

I do not think "selfishness" is always a bad word, either. A woman needs 'down time'...whatever that may involve. It is not a luxury, it is a necessity.

It is probably why I stay up later than I should. I need the quiet the decompress; to stare at a wall, watch senseless shows like Entertainment Tonight (yes, I am embarrassed to admit I like it) and catch up on the loose ends (LAUNDRY) that I don't want to wake up to in the morning. Late at night, when I make my rounds to their bedsides, gazing at their chubby, slumbering faces, I will stare in wonderment : What was so great an offense to make me lose it like I did this afternoon? or...I can't believe I told them to "SHUT UP! Just all of you, SHUT UP, for goodness sake!!!!!!" (my mom NEVER let us use that phrase growing up, and it was just yesterday that I completely lost it and used it on my dear children. Loudly.)....I'll kiss my four year old's soft cheek and pray to God he will not remember when I told him to 'STOP following me!!!!" the same morning while he pulled hard on my robe as I walked from room to room. It is during the nighttime hours, that I regain regular breathing, and restore perspective.

When all petitions, petty fights and nit-picky demands follow your every step during the greater part of the day, it brings one to a point where it is nigh to impossible to see the panoramic view of the value in parenting and blinds you to anything but the urgent desire to hand in your resignation, take the first plane to Honolulu and wait for a pool boy to bring you a nice strong drink and rub your feet (and I'm not even a drinker!).

Let me insert something I have been wanting to communicate here, just because:

 I do NOT think i'm something special because I have five small children.

The NUMBER OF CHILDREN we are GIVEN is NOT UP TO US!

Whatever we are given, IF we are given, will be a challenge to us, as it is a different number than what we lived with before. One is more than zero. Two is different than three. You can't know what six is like, when four is your number. Whenever I hear "I feel like I'm going out of my mind and I only have one child!" I want to (and often do) respond with, "Don't diminish the demand! One or three or six or eight...children in any number challenge us in ways we never knew!". I know of several women who have one child who would test me in ways far deeper than my five put together are and I would not be handling the testing nearly as lovingly as they are. I genuinely believe that.

It is as unfair for a mother of one to diminish herself compared (oh that dirty little 'c' word!) to me as it would be to diminish my load compared to a mama of nine.

We are all challenged in our raising those little lives we were given, leaving them unscathed and being limited by our imperfect selves in the process.

(There. Thank you for letting me get that off my chest).

I leave you with two scenes of rare footage.

 

As you can derive from the pajama's, these were taken on the same morning and within a ten minute time frame, I believe. These are moments, however rare, that God arranges when I need it most. They remind me that these are children whom I am raising to be adults. These are people, who were born at a particular time in history, not determined by us or our 'family plan'. They are here because they have a Grand Adventure with their Creator to embark upon, if they should so choose to accept it. It is my job to open their minds to the possibilities...to make them aware of the gifts, the personalities and the responsibilities they have been created with to help them in accepting the invitation for that Grand Adventure.

I too often forget this over-arching mission in my daily mothering. It gets lost in the crazy mornings and fractured afternoons naps. I loose sight when the noise decibel is off the charts and one twin just shut the other's fingers in a drawer while dinner is burning on the stove and Pattie Potty Trainer just peed her panties.

But just because I lose sight of it, doesn't mean it is not there. Tomorrow is always a new day. And no one does it perfectly. Not even Julia Roberts.

God's loyal love couldn't have run out,
his merciful love couldn't have dried up. They're created new every morning. How great your faithfulness! I'm sticking with God (I say it over and over).
-Lamentations 3:22-24