The Years Are Short.

"The days are long, but the years are short."

I figured my first blog post in over a year should probably start with something cliche. The first time I heard someone tell me that, my initial reaction was - yea. Uh, thanks?

I didn't get it.

But I do now.

I'm a working mom of 3 kids, ages 5 and under. There are very few moments in my day when I am not thinking about/doing things for small people who can't do things for themselves. The days are L-O-N-G. Not long enough to get everything done, but just long enough to use up every ounce of patience, understanding, and quite honestly "give a damn" that I have stored up in the old tank. Let's be real - it usually doesn't take me all day to get there.

My last blog post was written in the midst of what I will always remember as my first adult total meltdown. Looking back now, I remember vividly how I was feeling, and how overwhelming every aspect of my life was. But I also think - where did the time go??? The years ARE short. Even if they don't feel like it on an average Thursday when you haven't spent a moment with your children where someone wasn't completely losing it, only to look forward to bedtime where a whole other battle of the wills began, and no one slept soundly, and everyone woke up sick.....

Please don't confuse this blog post as me telling you how absolutely together my *ish* is right now.....because it's not. BUT I will say, that I have found grace. I know when to fight and when to let things go. I can usually pick my battles - and I think mostly they are the right ones. I've stopped trying to force my children to do what makes me feel better, and I'm listening more to how what they are doing makes them feel. And I'm figuring out when to forgive myself, because I know I'm doing my best.

But also - I've completely lowered the bar. And it's been the best thing I've ever done in my parenting career.

Maybe lowering the bar is the wrong phrase (it's totally the right phrase, but let me be more PC), I've learned how to manage my own expectations. I no longer live in a world where I honestly believe I can take my 3 children to a restaurant AND expect to enjoy my meal. I am now satisfied when no one is screaming bloody murder as we walk out the doors, and the waitress promptly brings the check before the salt shaker has been emptied onto the table/floor. I don't get upset when toothpaste is left in the sink, or when the kids don't eat ALL their dinner (or any of it for that matter - turns out they will not let themselves starve). If they don't get to bed right at their bedtime, I don't freak out anymore and if they decide to not wear clothes to bed - also OK. These are things I've learned make me less psycho-mom-y, and more good-mom-y. I've had to just let some things go.

Another turning point for me, is that I've had to learn that I cannot require the same things of each of my kids. My first child is a very typical "first child". She's a compliant, freakishly smart, rule follower who responds well to positive reinforcement, and is very affected by punishment of any kind. If I raise my voice to her, she falls apart. I mean falls A-PART! She's devastated. When it comes to school, if Mia is on anything but Green, Blue or Purple (please tell me you have kids and understand that these are the only "good behavior" colors on their color charts), then I am just SHOCKED! And of course there would be recourse at home (ie. taking away privileges, writing sentences, etc). Being that she's my first, naturally, I assumed she was the way she was because I was such an amazing parent.

I could not have been more wrong.

In walks Bella, my very typical second child (who knew all the stereotypes were SO spot on??). Bella is not compliant, she IS incredibly smart - but you won't figure that out by asking her to recite her numbers, ABC's, or tell you what her shapes are. Because if you do that, she would rather answer everything with "poopy", than tell you what she very well knows. BUT, if you listen to her talk, watch her draw, or let her make things out of playdoh - you see it. She also only responds moderately to positive reinforcement, every other Wednesday, when it's a half moon, and the temperature is a crisp 54 degrees......and she could care less if I raise my voice. Bella's the boss. And we all know it. When I pick Bella up from school, I usually ask "How was your day, Bells?" and if she tells me, "I didn't hit any of my friends!" I know we had a good day. Because that's where we're at with Bella. And I'm OK with that.

Nicky, we're still trying to figure out. He's taking cues from both sisters, but hasn't quite decided what he's going to be yet. I think any combination of them and he'll turn out alright. He of course, has mostly good days, could care less about positive reinforcement, or rules for that matter. He's our 3rd child, so we sort of let him do what he wants, so long as he's not hurting himself or anyone else, unless the anyone else is one of his sisters - because sometimes we let that slide....

I say all that to say that the days ARE long. Very long. But the years are short. It seems like just yesterday when I was a mom to just 1. And I remember then thinking how very hard life was. And it WAS hard.  But now, if I only have one kid trying to crawl back up into my uterus, I'm living the dream! And then I see pics of myself pregnant with Bella and I remember thinking how much my world was going to change. And I remember how worried I was about Mia and how she would handle it......and then Bella got here, and we all survived. And Mia was amazing, and Bella smiled all the time. I sort of think she was laughing because she knew I would never sleep again.....And then before I knew it, I was pregnant with Nicky. At that point, I had a 3 and a 1 year old, I hadn't really slept in at least a year, and I was pretty sure that I would not survive another body that needed me........

And here we are. And we are all OK. My kids play together like they are best friends. They care for each other in a way that I just never dreamt possible.

So I've lowered the bar to be able to enjoy watching my kids without killing myself or them in the process. I'll sit in our mess of a house and watch them disassemble their play room, or take a walk to the park that I know good and well will end with me having to carry a child, a bike or both home, or let them stay up a little later to get extra snuggles, because I'm going to blink again and it's going to be over.....this part at least. And I'm going to want it back.