Revelations... by Krystal

Once upon a time... not so long ago... and, really, not so far away, life was simple.  Derek and I were just married and beginning to learn what we needed to do to make things work as newlyweds, keep ourselves happy, and help keep each other happy.  I know we had some really great times.  We made quite a few trips to California, went on a cruise, went to school, spent time with our families, and had many-a-game nights... even one where Derek serenaded us.  

I also remember feeling like life was hard.  Not extremely difficult, by any means, but tough.  We were both going to school and both working.  Juggling work and school felt like a lot to me.  I'll admit that I'm known to get overwhelmed easily, so this really would come as no surprise to... well, everyone.

Life in our little apartment by Weber State was fun.  I can remember cleaning that apartment every week simply because it had been a week since I had last cleaned it.  I knew it wasn't really all that dirty, but I did it anyway.  We lived there for a couple of years until we had both finished school and then we bought our own house.

We talked about having kids... well, mostly I did.  I was so anxious about getting the show on the road.  To this day, Derek still teases me about all the times that I said, "When's it going to be my turn?"  I longed to be that pregnant lady out to eat with her husband or shopping at the mall.  I longed to feel a baby inside my tummy.  I longed to hold my baby in my arms.  I can remember driving home from dinner at my dad's one Sunday and Derek said something like, "I'm ready..."   It was music to my ears and before long we were expecting Lincoln.

I loved everything about being pregnant.  Feeling and seeing my body change and knowing that I was going to be a mom was seriously the best thing ever... until he was born.  Then actually being a mom and being able to hold my own baby was something that overwhelmed me (in a good way) so much that I cannot even put it into words.  Holding him for the first time was, I believe, the most amazing thing that has ever or will ever happen to me.  Sometimes I still look at both of my kids and am blown away that we were able to create two people.  We. Created. People.  Mind blasting, I know.

I could go on and on about those first few months.  Although my memory isn't the best, I'm confident that I took it all in at the time.  And, although I know there were some hard times,  I remember that I constantly reminded myself to enjoy every second of it.  He was great.  We were great.  Life was GREAT.  Seriously,  So great. 

In fact, life was so great that we decided we would have another baby.  We weren't sure when but we figured we'd just let it happen.  And, wouldn't ya know it, I was pregnant the next month... when Lincoln was only about 6 months old.

 When Lincoln was 15 months old, we welcomed Amelia to our family.... which brings me to what motivated me to write this post in the first place.  This past Sunday morning, Amelia asked if we could watch the video from when she was born.  As we sat and watched video of her at the hospital and then pretty much video of the last four years, I couldn't help but feel sad.  Happy, of course, but also sad.

Sad because I feel like I missed a lot after she was born.  I've whined before about how tough it was when she was a baby.  I've always felt like maybe we were just being wimpy.  But, as I watched the video of her at the hospital, I realized she was, in fact, pretty fussy from the get-go.  I remember someone telling me that they had been through something similar and actually seemed to block out a lot of the hard times.  I'm beginning to think that I actually did.  This makes me sad.  I'm sad to feel like I've lost time.  I'm sad to think that I didn't try to take it all in a little more after she was born and really just enjoy the good times.  

As I sat and watched the videos, I heard a different person in myself than I hear lately.  Even though I know I was frazzled and extremely sleep deprived at the time, I heard a patient mom.  I heard a fun mom.  I heard a mom that was warm and loving to her kids.  

But over the years, I almost feel like teeny tiny parts of me have been chiseled away.  Like the good parts.  Those patient parts.  Until all that's left is a ragged, impatient, whiny woman who doesn't take enough time to enjoy this beautiful little faces.

And I realize that at each stepping stone in life, I've thought things were hard.  Things were hard when we were trying to do school and work at the same time.  Things were hard as we tried to learn how to be parents and take care of a newborn.  Things were hard as we tried to learn how to juggle keeping two children happy.  Things were hard when we moved to California and Derek was working far away and gone a lot.  Things were hard when the days seemed so long and I had no idea how to keep two babies entertained.  Things were hard when they got a bit bigger and learned how to fight, and argue, and push, and scratch.  They really do that, I promise.

But now there's all kinds of new hard.  It's hard to believe that Lincoln is starting Kindergarten this year.  It's hard to believe that my baby will be four-years old soon.  It's hard to have them learning inappropriate things and exhibiting them in public.  It's hard not to want to bust out video of how innocent and sweet and adorable they were when they were babies and show it to the glaring observer at the grocery store when all hell breaks loose.

And now it's funny to look back and think about how hard I thought it was before.  It's funny how perspective can change.  With each passing day, life has gotten busier.  A lot busier.  Sometimes I think about those days when they were tiny and the only thing we had marked on the calendar were upcoming Dr. appointments.  Now we have school and work schedules, tumbling, dancing, soccer, Dr. appointments, dentist appointments, etc., etc.  

Scarily, I now realize that this is a pattern.  Things do get harder.  And, chances are, they will only get harder... and in different ways.  I don't have the control I use to have.  I can't contain their toys to a blanket on the living room floor.  They walk, run, and ride bikes (Lincoln without training wheels!  Woo Hoo! *Future post*).  I can't clean the house while they take naps because they don't take naps anymore.  "Cleaning a house with children is like shoveling during a blizzard" comes to mind.  There never seems to be enough time to get things done anymore, either.  Like I said, I guess the "hard" just changes.  I follow a few blogs that remind me that I really don't know what hard is... like the loss of a child.  So, I guess in the grand scheme of things, I am kind of whining.  I wouldn't say that I'm complaining, but merely taking notes of how our lives have changed.  I'm constantly reminding myself that I have no idea what's in store for us.

And I'm constantly reminding myself to calm down, take a breath, and really look at them... I prefer to have those moments during the times when I don't feel like lasers are shooting from my eyeballs.  Because as much as they have made me crazy and, I believe, caused these hideous wrinkles to come to surface with a bang, they really are quite adorable and sweet and actually still pretty innocent.  I'm torn between wanting to let them spread their wings and be independent and locking them up in the closet where I know no one can hurt them and they won't be taught naughty things like, "What the hell?"  Oh wait, maybe that was me that taught them that.  

The other day, after watching the videos and I had my melt down, I opened up... broke down... to Derek about how I was feeling.  He's always so good to be the shoulder to cry on and let me just have my time.  I really don't think there's anyone else that could *deal* with me quite like him.  

I just hope that as life gets busier and harder in ways that I know we can't even imagine right now, we can continue to be there for one another.  Well, he's really not too hard to be there for... he's pretty low maintenance.  I guess I should say I hope he can continue to be there for me and deal with the occasional breakdown/meltdown/sob fest.  They will come, it's a sure bet.  I know it will get hairy and crazy but there's no one else I'd rather have by my side.