Sometimes I would read things by older mothers when I was a younger mother with all tiny babies, things about how much easier things were for them now that their kids were older, and even though I sometimes allowed myself to imagine the days when I would be writing things like that, mostly I tried to keep a disinterested distance so as not to fall into a pit of despair (despite the fact that I had dreamed about and hoped for those baby days my whole life, and miss them terribly now that they’re gone!). Those years were just a lot of “one foot in front of the other and keep moving forward.” It was such good work! Taking care of babies — taking care of anyone who can’t take care of themselves — is such good work. Many times I reminded myself that loving others in this way makes a real difference in the world, truly makes the world a better place, which is what we all want, right? But oh man. It is hard.
I think the very hardest days for me were when I wasn’t feeling well, whether because of pregnancy or illness. I’ve never been good at dealing with discomfort or pain; all I want to do is lay down and sleep until I feel better. I certainly do not want to get myself up to make food for others, or deal with potty issues, or change diapers. I definitely do not want to break up squabbles or deal with monitoring timeouts or feel endlessly guilty because I kept the TV on for the kids all day while I tried to rest. I don’t want to remind little people to do their homework, and I don’t want to deal with the unending laundry and dishes.
I would count the seconds until my husband got home from work and could take over the majority of everything, but even then, I have so many memories of feeling absolutely rotten but still needing to nurse the baby, or of having to put the boy to bed who wouldn’t go peacefully for anyone but me. I have vivid memories of feeling so sore from feverish achiness but still I had babies and little boys draped on me, rubbing themselves all over my sensitive skin. (I will say that I was always grateful my little guys never seemed to care one bit if I wasn’t showered and if my clothes were dirty, they just wanted to be close to me.)
I’m actually writing this as I’m getting over a bug, which is probably why these kinds of memories are so fresh in my mind. This time, I’m the older mom writing about how, now that the kids are older, things are so much easier! Yesterday I could barely get out of bed, today I feel only a little better. But it’s been fine! Even my youngest can get himself something to eat and take himself to the bathroom, and he’s fantastic at playing contentedly with Legos for hours. It’s amazingly different from how it was even a year ago! Last year at this time, my youngest was still in diapers and still using a pacifier every second of the day and night. The truth of “long days and short years” never ceases to amaze me.
There are other things that have struck me as part of this new “older mom” life recently that I actually wrote down in a notebook so I wouldn’t forget: how I don’t have to worry about waking the baby up with flushing the toilet at night, or how I can put older boys in charge and run upstairs to take a shower instead of waiting all day for my husband to come home, or run out on an errand without getting everybody into boots and winter coats to do so. I saw a mom in line at the Starbucks at Target the other day — she had a bunch of little ones strapped into her cart and something about the whole thing made me think she’d gotten the kids all out of the house and into Target just for the coffee, which sounds insane from my current perspective but it only took me a minute to remember being in that very spot and thinking, “A nice coffee is exactly what will perk up my day right now, and I’m willing to get everyone dressed and out of the house just for that.” Those “long days and short years”!
Of course, now that things are easier — now that I can take care of myself the way I’d like to — I have other things to deal with, like how the longer I lay in bed or on the couch, the sorer my body feels. Or how the more rest I get during the day, the less peaceful my night will be. All of that is evidence to me that my ability to handle what I used to handle is greatly diminished — funny how that happens! I wouldn’t trade those earlier years for anything! But I’m becoming more and more peaceful with life the way it is now.
Kate and her husband have seven sons ages 18, 16, 14, 12, 11, 8, and 4. Email her at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..
