Realize.

It's 1:15p.m. and I'm still in my pajamas. I have done lots of things, but showering is not one of them. Oh! And as I write, the Little One just spit up on my pants. How appropriate!


On another note, I don't know what to do with Lillie. She's given up naps. If she takes one, she's up until  11p.m. So we're done with naps. Which makes functioning in the afternoon impossible. Take for instance, yesterday. She cried on the 15 minute drive to gymnastics, she cried for the first half hour of me attempting to watch the girls while she pinched her fingers in every single door in the building. She cried on the way to get french fries. She cried on the way back. She cried when I went in to pick up the girls, which I was late to do, so they were trying to phone me from the front desk, Grace with tears in her eyes. She cried while we drove up the road to get on the freeway.


I entered onto the 90th south onramp, and noticed that traffic was at a dead stop. There was an accident up ahead. Rush hour, Matilda and Lillie crying, stopped in four lanes of traffic trying to merge onto a stopped freeway. I almost did a lot of things... including smash my forehead into the steering wheel to dull the pain.


How do other people do it? I can't be the only mother in Utah stuck in a mini-van at rush hour with screaming kids. No wonder women lose it. No wonder some are on medication. No wonder moms are on edge, and are known for it.


Four kids has really tested me. Before this, I'm going to say that motherhood was challenging at times, but I felt I could handle it. It was fairly easy. Since Matilda was born, Lillie has entered into a constantly changing tide of emotions, personal problems and breakdowns. She doesn't leave my side. Which makes everything else so difficult. I love her. I tell her a thousand times a day. I am here for her. I tell her that, too. But the bad, the bad is so hard.

My life is now filled with so much noise and distraction it's hard to even remember my name. At times I want someone to come and relieve me, like a relay race, you would run through my front door, I would hand you my apron and take off for a long run. I would run over hills and past houses and stores and little neighborhoods until I found a hill top somewhere with green grass and trees. 

I would sit down to be alone with my thoughts and enjoy a little peace. 

There I'm sure I would find my mind wandering. Over my life, over my husband, over the faces of my beautiful daughters, the shadows and valleys of their noses and lips, their questioning eyes. I would think about their hair falling over their shoulders and bouncing as they ran. Their shocking beauty as they sleep.


Then I would realize it. That I want them so badly I could cry a billion tears. And I would haul myself up, as fast as I could, and run home again.