One of the approximately 8,346 pages I follow on Facebook that posts the inspirational quotes and things recently posted one about choosing joy, not waiting for things to get easier, simpler, better. Be happy now. That sort of thing.
Gotta admit – I’m not great at that approach to life. Never have been. But occasionally I’ve had, and get, a glimpse of it – that in-the-moment-realization of happiness. I try to remember to do it more and more with the boys, now that I’m not in as much shock and survival mode with them. Because as a solo mama of twin babies, those first few years were, well, rough.
Can you prep for kids – Ick or Joy?
So, I mean, let’s be real. You can’t really prepare for having kids. Married or single, having singletons or multiples, babysat for twenty years, did all the research, and read all of the books.
Does. Not. Matter.
Oh, I know the commercial vision – sitting in a glider, gazing into your sweet baby’s eyes, admiring that precious button nose. You know what I’m talking about. Playing chase in the sunny yard, blowing bubbles, and watching your adorable little pumpkin chase them in the wind on a breezy summer day. Maybe hubs is putting a yard toy together or bringing you some iced tea and ice pops out for everyone.
Okay, I never actually daydreamed ALL of that, but you get the gist.
Never thought it’d be this Ick, though
I do feel confident saying not a soul on this planet gazes into their motherhood future and envisions themselves sitting knock-kneed on the toilet, messy topknot on their head, t-shirt pulled up around the waist and underwear around the ankles – staring at a very small person (in my case, two smalls) sitting on a stepstool in front of them (me) saying brightly “I keep you company while you poop!”
Crying on the kitchen floor with two screaming babies isn’t likely to cross anyone’s mind when thinking about having kids. Didn’t mine. But oh – there was so very much crying in this house – equally on all three of our parts, I’d say. I might have a slight edge on the boys on this one.
And I know for damn sure I never, ever, put ANY thought into the amount of bodily fluids I would be required to … encounter. Ick.
Nor did I ever consider how often I would say things like:
- OMG Don’t lick the toilet!
- Stop eating your boogers!
- Get off of the back sofa cushions!
- Get your hands out of your pants! (Or butt, nose, brother’s nose.)
- Please, for the love of all things, GET your SHOES on!
- How can I POSSIBLY know where your {insert any child possession] is?
- Stop putting your penis on your brother’s leg!
- Don’t you dare bring that lizard in this house!
- I’m sorry, you’ve used up all of your “Moms” – please call me “Brooke” for the rest of the day.
- GET. IN. THE. CAR. OR. I. AM. LEAVING. YOU. HERE!
And, there’s just not any way to prepare for the fear and the guilt and the overwhelming sense of failure that show up at the lowest points.
Oh, but the Joy
But the joy. There is no way to prepare for that either. The joy, and the laughs, and the pride and the love. I couldn’t even have imagined the reality of it. Especially the current eight-year-old reality of it. The screaming toddler reality wasn’t terribly joyful.
Fortunately, now that the boys are eight, there is far less crying on all of our parts, and so many laughs because kids are funny as hell. So I now find myself sort of marveling at them, really. Like, how did I get you two little loves of my life to fill my heart with all this love and joy?
There is no way to describe the love I feel with these little boys following me around the house like my shadow. Or busting through the door after an overnight at my mom’s and leaping into my arms for hugs. Or playing a game of Uno and one says out of the blue, “Mom, I love you.”
Sometimes, not always, but sometimes, I look at them and really feel it in my bones – They. Are. Joy.
Appreciating them now
Despite the fact that my day job is insanely busy right now, these slow-mo pandemic months have been so nice. I have been better able to appreciate the boys – their senses of humor, their relationship with each other, the things that bring them joy, and how smart and kind and thoughtful they are.
I’m remembering more to stop, look around, and choose the joy. It’s certainly easier to do with them at eight than it was at 3 am with screaming twin four-month-old preemies. I think back at that time period and am sometimes almost sad that I didn’t appreciate it then. ( I’m not going to lie – there was a lot of exhausted, not-fun back there in the thick of it and that’s just the truth.)
But looking back at THAT time now reminds me to appreciate THIS time.
When does real happy arrive?
Before I had them – I used to think if I just had X, or if Y would just happen, THEN I’d finally be able to be happy.
I was waiting to find my “happy” so I could finally HAVE kids and finally BE happy. And then I realized I had to have them on my own. Although that wasn’t exactly a joyful realization – I at least knew that taking no action would not bring me what I thought I wanted.
But – leap and the net would appear.
Intellectually I know that happiness isn’t a destination, but is the experience of the journey. In reality, for me, there is still a somewhat perpetual search for something more, better, different to arrive at HAPPY. Unfortunately, I’m wired that way and that’s just a fight in my own brain. But, that dissatisfaction is less now.
Because you want to know what’s more now?
Joy.
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