I wake up in the middle of the night to feed growing 5 month olds, I wake up early every day to feed babies, thankful that my diligent nanny will arrive 5 days a week to take on some of the duties of helping them thrive. I dress babies, I dress myself, I get out the door to sit in traffic to get to work, where I immerse myself in technology, research, brand new ideas, and diplomatic meetings, only to come home to feeding, dressing, and socializing with babies again.
I've been asked if I'm stressed, and my response is that there is no certain part of my life that is stressful, but when you add them all together, I'm doing, running, acting on life nearly 24 hours a day. And that, sometimes, is stressful. I've been told, "I don't know how you're doing it," by many, and I appreciate the acknowledgement that I'm working constantly and still smiling. I feel every ounce of the sentiment behind that compliment (and if it's not a compliment, I take it as one anyway).
But I feel like what I'm doing is life -- what any one person does when they struggle to adjust to the ever-changing ways that life surprises us. I am adjusting to my world, the same way every person does when they start a new relationship, leave a new relationship, get engaged, get a new job, leave a new job, get married, get divorced, have their first child, second child, fifth child, etc. We all make decisions daily that leave us either reeling in anticipation, adjusting to good and bad change, and struggling with regret, remorse, or boredom.
(For the record, I am not experiencing boredom.)
There are many ways that my life has changed drastically in the last 3 years. I drink less. I pretend that I am involving myself socially in regular life by signing up for facebook, instagram, fantasy football, and pinterest. I have a full DVR of shows I'd love to watch "when I have the time." I get frustrated when I (finally) decide to "make" dinner of frozen whatever and I'm the only one who eats it, cold, between feeding babies Gerber pureed carrots. And I sigh when my two and a half year old refuses dinner because he'd rather have those hot dogs he sees in the refrigerator door or the waffle in the freezer.
When I hear "it gets easier" from many supportive parental friends I smile at the support they are giving, but am confused. It is, to me, "easier," when my babies wake up in the middle of the night and want just a bottle and a cuddle.
It is easy to put a baby in a stroller while they sleep and go shopping. But it is challenging to teach them to stay near you while you shop, to say please, and thank you, and show real gratitude. I would not trade that for anything, but know that it takes more than just picking the right television shows or teaching them to eat from a spoon or to walk or to learn to read.
As they age they want to be entertained, reasoned with, and fed more interesting things at their own request, and I have to be creative. They have their own minds from the beginning, and I embrace that. But when they are newborns, they don't want much. When they get a few months under their belt, it's time to admit that they have just as much say in their lives as you do.
I knew at 5 months old that Adam was brilliant and motivated.
I know at 5 months old that Colin is deep and mysterious,
and I know at 5 months old that Claire is energetic and protective.
I know that all of my children are competitive, and I'm fully aware of the challenges that poses to me. I embrace that.
When asked "how I do it," I have no response. I do it because that is our life right now. There is only one thing I wish, and that is that there were 6 of me: one to parent Adam fully (with no distractions), one to parent Colin fully (with no distractions), one to parent Claire fully (with no distractions), one to be a wife to Shannon, one to be fully invested in my career, and one to have the time to be me -- to play soccer, to write, to have a drink and a long conversation with my friends. The person to cook and clean? I'd outsource. Because in this alternate reality, I'd have tons of money too.
But I do not live every day hoping for the future to come because the present happens too quickly. I live many days wishing I could relive the previous day again.
So when asked, "how do you do it?" by anyone, what I really want to know is, "how do you do it?" How do you send them off to Kindergarten? How do you let your baby go to camp for a week? How do you let them drive a car without you? How do you send them off with their friends and wait for them to come home at curfew? How do you send them on their first date? How do you handle them going to college? How do you watch them get married, or move to another state? How? Because every piece of me wants to tuck them back under my arm and not move for the rest of our lives.
And yet... I teach them how to eat, how to walk (away), how to talk (back), how to love (someone else).
Then I rejoice in their successes, from sitting up on their own, to their first word, to making their first friend and all of the other stuff that I can hardly bear to think about. But I would not waste a second.
The struggle is not physical or logical or financial -- it is emotional. If I could give every ounce of me to my children I would do so in a heartbeat, but ironically that is the one thing I cannot fully do.
I want to teach my children how to laugh when they fall down, even though I want to smother them with kisses and wrap them in bubble wrap. I want to teach them that it's okay to fail, because that means they tried, even though I'd rather they never have to feel the disappointment of failure. I want to teach my children to love, even though that means they can get their heart broken . . . and I do this fully aware that if anyone breaks their heart I might literally suffocate in anguish for them. (Or suffocate the person who broke their heart. Just putting that out there.)
Being a parent is hard, but mostly because you teach them to grow up while you want them to stop . And mine are so little, I have so much hard and so much joy left to go. But only if I am blessed enough.
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