Week's End

I toyed with the idea of writing a fun, newsy post for the end of the week.  You know, describing how I finally taught Henry how to brush his back teeth.  (We use a mirror now.)  Or how I think Liam tried to kiss me for the first time last night.  Those things are wonderful and could be accompanied by cute photos.  But they don't do justice to what I experienced this week, what I learned and what, I hope, changes the way I live my life.

Although I have tried to keep it to a minimum, I'm sure strains of discontent have been noticeable in my posts.  There's no time.  There are too many chores.  There's not enough of me.  The baby won't stop screaming.   My job is no longer enjoyable. 

People close to me and who were aware of the many years I longed for children could not understand my negativity.  Hadn't all my dreams come true?  Weren't my children healthy and relatively happy?  Didn't we have a roof over our heads, health insurance and the beginning of a college fund?  Yes, yes, and yes.  And still, not a day went by that I didn't complain.  Kind of like this Amy Grant song but with less rhythm:

This may be a dream come true,

This may be poetry in motion,

This may be a dream come true,

But when it all comes down,

It's an awful lot to do.

                              "Hats"

If I wasn't complaining, losing patience with the children or dabbling in self-pity, I was spending hours feeling guilty about those very things.  But all that guilt (and sleepless nights) never changed my behavior.  It took an encounter with another mom to do that. 

To say that the scales fell from my eyes would sound melodramatic.  So I won't.  But they did.  After returning home, I saw everything in a new light.  Colors were brighter and my children's voices were sweeter.  My sticky floors made me smile and the pile of laundry made me laugh.  Trying to get two cranky boys ready for bed while they screamed and struggled out of their pajamas, made me thank God that I was given this opportunity each and every night.

Now I know, I haven't given details of this encounter with the amazing mom.  And I can't.  It wouldn't be fair.  She doesn't know that I walked away from our meeting moved to tears.  I don't know how she would feel about that.  I respect her and her children's privacy.  Maybe she will start her own blog.  If she does, stop reading mine--hers will be much more inspiring.

Well, if you read this far, you deserve one cute photo