Sleepless in Seattle

Mothering.


I get it now. I really do. You don't get it until you do it, but it's the hardest job anyone could have. I'm pretty sure. It seems so commonplace to those of us who don't have children.

People raise kids all the time, right?

 Easy-peasy, right?

Wrong.

It's a mental game...with yourself. It's not even the fact that it's physically draining that's hard. Even though that quadruples (times five and a half million) the effort you have to put in to win the mental fight. It's the struggle to remain optimistic while your 5 month old just won't stop screaming. When she wakes up 3 or 4 times in the night, even though she really should be sleeping longer. When she won't sleep anywhere but in your arms, while you're sitting up. When your two & a half year old won't listen to a single thing you say. When she's crying hysterically over you not turning the car light on and off (which I admit, was my bad...what harm would that have done?) Etc. You get the point.

Despite the fact that it takes about five hundred times as long to get out the door and go somewhere with children than when you're on your own, the couple of nights I've had Rory and got less sleep than I'd ever had in my life (and I'm in college!), the car drives of misery when she won't stop crying (read: screaming her guts out), and arguing with a hysterical almost three year old about the dumbest things, I'd never have this summer a different way. I'm the luckiest aunt in the world.

I'm so lucky I want to publicly, brand-new-mom-ish-ly gush about my nieces. Actually I do that anyway, just walking down the street when people tell us how adorable they are. I have the absolutely most hilarious two year old of a niece ever. She can make me burst out laughing harder than I have ever laughed. Her obvious love of life is so infectious sometimes it's annoying. (But not really). She adores animals of all kinds, and she's convinced she will grow up to fix baby raccoons and baby ostriches (score for Auntie Becca!). She says the darndest things, and her misuse of grammar is hilarious and adorable (even though I try to correct it anyway, much to Jenna's chagrin). Making her laugh is basically my goal, every single day. It's not hard to do, which is the best part. She screams (which scares the baby) but I almost enjoy it...they're screams of pure joy, most of the time. And Rory. I can't imagine a baby cuter than her. When she's not screaming or sleeping, she's full of smiles. She wants to walk like big sister so much, it makes her cry. Which, admittedly, is not a rare occurrence, but the smiles and giggles make me want to die of joy. When I kiss her cheeks she giggles like only a baby can, and her curly mop of hair makes every other mother die of envy. She just absolutely wants to smile at you whenever she sees you (unless she doesn't have her way in one aspect or another, of course.) Also, how in the world can baby heads smell so good?

Basically, leaving my babies (and yes, Jenna, you did all the work but I'm still claiming them as mine) in less than three weeks will be the most heart-wrenching thing I've had to do in awhile (read: ever). Tears will be shed, I'm sure. Mine, Lily's, Jenna's, or Rory's I'm not quite so sure yet, but I'm sure we can get at least 2 out of 4.

So here's to mothers. Holy crap, I don't know how you did it, but congratulations for not killing us all. And thank you, for your obvious, selfless, generous love we probably don't deserve, and won't deserve for a long while yet.