A Progression Through Motherhood

I got to thinking yesterday about how I have changed as a mother over the past 7.5 years. Being a first-time mom is WORLDS APART from being seasoned. Actually, in some ways the initial brain damage that occurs in the first several years of motherhood repairs itself with the addition of more kids (or just the passage of time - I can't be sure). For instance, I used to not be able to complete a sentence, let alone a thought, because I was so easily distracted by my baby. Now, a kid has to REALLY, REALLY need something before my thought is disrupted. That's not because I am trying to "teach him a lesson." No. Its an honest-to-goodness ability to tune out a deafening amount of background noise.


I have a few other examples of my progression through motherhood. Can you relate?

Definition of a "Great" Night's Sleep
With Baby #1: Eight straight hours. No interruptions. Ah, who am I kidding?! It's not a great night's sleep unless it's 10 hours - solid.
With Baby #2: Eight straight hours will do, but it must include waking up on my own - if a kid wakes me up, the night is automatically disqualified from being great.
With Baby #3: Eight hours, with only one interruption from only one kid - now THAT's great!
With Baby #4: Eight hours, 2 interruptions, no additional "mommy's bladder" awakenings, no snoring from the husband, and no insomnia. It's like heaven!

Showering.
When my first child was an infant: The shower was illusive. IF-IF-IF I got one in a day while my husband or mom was not there, it was remarkable. I have a distinct memory of putting my little cherub in a bouncy seat in the bathroom with me. The water is on. Shampoo is in my hair...nice and bubbly. Baby starts to cry. My panic sets in. The cry gets louder and harder. It's been 30 horrible seconds now. I am fully panicked. Forget it. I turn the water off immediately, suds still in my hair, and sooth my baby. The shower will wait. Maybe I can rinse my hair in the sink.

With baby #2: When the baby cries I control my panic long enough to rinse my hair. But no conditioner, and i did not actually wash my body. My first thought is NOT "oh by poor baby." My first thought is, "Your older brother is finally napping!! You can't wake him up!!" I am concerned about the crying baby, yes, but the bigger concern is still that first child who never did get to be a good sleeper.
With baby #3: Getting a shower is much easier with three kids than it ever was with one or two. How can that be? When baby #3 cries, this time I think, "The older two will just have to learn to sleep through the baby's cries." And as that baby cries I am finishing my shower (quickly but thoroughly), reminding myself "Babies don't die if they cry. Babies don't die if they cry...."
With baby #4: I am up at the crack of dawn because I finally learned that missing a shower for a measley half hour of more sleep in the morning only makes me crankier. I hear him crying. I continue the shower. Then I am reminded of what it was like showering when I had just my first child. And I think, "my that was a different world." (baby still crying, mom still showering), "Wow. So very different. I think I will write a blog post about that. Now, how would I start that post... what would be the first sentence... ah, yes. I know. Oooh that would be good... And I could also talk about how my definition of a good night's sleep has changed over the years, too. And, oh yeah, that's my baby, still crying, huh?..."

I Only Need A Moment

My life right now boils down to a steady stream of moments (wonderful, joyful moments). I move from one child to another, meeting their needs. One child needs a hug, another needs an apple slice. One needs to report his bowel movement to me (so he thinks), and another needs to be rocked. The phone rings. The water is boiling. The husband has a question. I move from one moment to the next all day long until my head hits the pillow. And then I sleep for what honestly feels like a moment. Life is wonderfully full, and mighty busy.

Guess what gets lost in that busy shuffle? My time with the Lord. Every time I am pregnant I fall out of any and every good habit I may have previously established. And every time we add a child to our family, I have to essentially re-learn how to fit quiet times into my life. So, here we are again.

The thought of waking up even earlier (while night-time feedings still exist) is bone-shattering. Finding a chunk of time during the day is a struggle, and the baby is fussy in the evening and requires being held (I gladly cuddle my little monkey who seems to sense immediately when I pick up a book to read). I mention all these things not to complain - far from it... I love my existance - but rather to prove to you that my days are full. Can you relate?!

It occurred to me not too many days ago that 1) I need to lower my expectations for what qualifies as a quiet time, and 2) I need to think differently about my time. So rather than searching all day long for a fifteen-minute window of quiet (does such a thing exist?), I search for a "moment."

It's like this: the two big boys are playing quietly together, the 2yo is sitting on his bed recovering from a fit, and the baby is asleep for the time being. suddenly I realize Hey, I have a moment! Mind you, my sticky counters are stacked with dishes and I still did not get to the mailbox. Previously, I would have seen this "moment" to get either of these two things done. But knowing the moment is fleeting, I stop it all and move toward the couch. The mail can wait. The counters will get sticky again anyway.

A moment is just that - fleeting. Here and gone. So that's my expectation. I don't hope for long sessions of quiet, lest I dash my spirits, become frustrated and give up. Instead, I consider it a great success if I grab that moment with my Bible in my lap, even if I only read a sentence. Because, hey! That means I found my Bible. I sat. I breathed.

And then the moment is gone... success is declared.