I had all four kids alone, from toddler to tween to an emotional 13 year with autism and it was a lot to handle.
There was a lot of screaming.
There was water play when there wasn’t supposed to be water play.
And then wet clothes on the floor. And sand.
I yelled. I don’t usually yell. But I did.
There was talking back.
And throwing. So much throwing.
There was ‘mommy will you play with me.’
And a lot of screen time.
At one point I looked around at my house and considered moving. Just up and moving.
The clutter was suffocating.
Blocks, dinosaurs, Legos, books, blankets.
It was everywhere.
Everything is always everywhere.
Like a tornado.
I fed them McDonalds.
And skipped bath time. In my defense they sprayed each other with the hose and that should count for something.
I counted down the minutes until bedtime.
I felt like an open nerve as I picked up and said turn it down for the hundredth time.
I did read a story, but I skipped a few pages in the middle.
My last words were ‘go to sleep Sawyer.’
And then they were asleep.
As I sat on my couch after, exhausted, with my littlest one, I felt like a failure.
I’m not saying that to get praise, I’m saying that because it’s how I felt.
I didn’t enjoy every minute. In fact, I didn’t enjoy much of the evening.
I felt exhausted and overwhelmed.
I prayed for a break. And silence.
And I beat myself up pretty good as I thought about how they are growing up before my eyes.
Later, as I checked on their dreaming bodies, I saw something different though.
I saw three boys safely in their beds all warm and cozy.
I saw one in dinosaur jammies, dreaming peacefully in his truck bed.
The other two snuggled up with each other, a dozen blankets forming a nest around them.
I saw my autistic son’s treasures piled up high on the bedside table.
I saw my other son’s baseball trophy on the floor beside him. Goodness he’s proud of that thing.
They were safe.
And fed.
They were happy. And content.
Their teeth may not have brushed but they each got kisses and hugs and “I love yous.”
The parenting bar is sure set high these days.
Too high sometimes it feels.
Happy. Healthy. Safe. And loved.
Somedays that is enough.
I picked a photo of each of my children that brings me joy and reminds me why we keep going.
