Tired. But, you know, worth it. Etc.

Early this morning, with my alarm chiming and the sun still sleeping, it seemed to me that there was nothing within the entire realm of wishes that I would rather be granted more than several extra hours in bed. 

I have been parenting for almost twenty years now. (Having teenagers is one thing. But this December I will truly be the mother of a 20 year old!)

Remarkable as it is to consider having raised a child to that age, more remarkable still is the utterly bewildering fact that all. those. years. have not shifted me even slightly out of the trenches of: bathroom fails, buckling car seats, soothing 2:00 a.m. baby tears, food thrown from high chairs, Duplo blocks and Littlest Pets scattered all over the floor, and cooking dinner one-armed with a baby on my hip. 

And sometimes, in moments (usually when dinner is needing cleaned up, kids are needing put to bed, homework is still needing helped with, Mike isn't home, and a few tantrums are occurring), I really do think, "I can't possibly go on. It has been too long. And there is no break. The demands are too relentless. And the stakes are too high. The years still ahead too many. And I am too tired."

But luckily, I also often think that nothing, NOTHING could be too much to ask or too much to give in order to live the very life I am living. There is joy. And there is not only growth, but active and certain hope within the fears and the exhaustion and the unknowns. There might be sighs of wistfulness and pricks of envy, but I've searched my soul. If I could go back, if I could start afresh, with all new options on the horizon, a world of possibilities, ... I would choose this path. Again. And even though I may lock myself in the bathroom to have a good cry more than I imagine anyone would guess, there is no hesitation in that certainty.

After all, had I left these trenches any earlier, there wouldn't be this little soul -- perched on the table, scavenging left-behind food and crafts, any time I have turned my back for even a moment.

And there wouldn't be this little stinker who told me woefully the other day, "I wish people wouldn't be mean to me when I do bad things on accident." (Most of those "people" are his brothers. And most of those "bad things" involve breaking their Lego sets. [I couldn't help laughingly thinking of the verse in the Book of Mormon where the Nephites are sorrowing "because the Lord would not always suffer them to take happiness in sin."])

And there wouldn't be Daisy joining us over Google Hangouts to finish up Watership Down. And there wouldn't be Abe in Las Vegas connecting with people and reminding me every Tuesday (letter day!) how aware God is of exactly where we are and how we are feeling and who we can influence.

And there wouldn't be Penny sending me texts like this from school. (Could anything be more thoughtful? She reminded me where my dad's grave is [I always wander, lost, trying to find it]. She even offered me her money for heaven's sake!):

"Why hello there Mom! A very good morning to you! What would you like to do today? I have $10 with me, so take that and head over to Chick-Fil-A! Or drive over the Grandpa's grave (it is across from the big willow), or you could go visit Grandma! Go on a 5 hour run and I will tend for you! Whatever you would like and it is absolutely all on me!"

Or texts like this when she has taken a grumpy Starling outside while I try to make dinner:

"Me and your baby are having the time of our lives!"

And there wouldn't be these little notes found around the house in the past month.

Surely no other path could compensate for the loss of those things! So ... onward and upward and so forth. What's a little crying in the bathroom anyway! (But seriously. I am so tired. Haha.) The End.