I give up…

I give up on getting out the door on time.  I give up on clean faces, wiped noses, brushed teeth and neat braids.  I give up on staying asleep the entire night, early rising and fresh diaper smells in the morning.  I give up on movie night, girl’s night and date night.  I give up on freshly painted molding, drapes that are not twirled in and made beds.  I give up on clear pathways, laundry all done and dishes cleaned.  I give up on potty training, nighttime wetting and humidifiers. I give up on volunteering and signing things and checking homework.  I give up on groceries and dinners and constant snacks.  I give up on refereeing fights and correcting mean words.  I just give up.

The other day my fourth born child, almost 3-year-old son (the really, really cute one) was up in the tub playing.  My husband was very nearby (don’t judge because let’s face it…if I was giving him a bath it would be entirely utilitarian) and he lets him play for a bit.  I hear some commotion coming from upstairs a little yelling and then heavy feet from the staircase descending.  I was downstairs in a really good groove of cleaning and putting away groceries.  I had plans of changing the cat’s litter switching the laundry and then on to folding all while my lovely husband managed the bubs upstairs.  Nope.  He had a splitting headache and stated, “That yelling you heard from me, just made my head feel like it was bursting…I just can’t…upstairs…I just can’t…you’ll see.”  I ascended the stairs to lay down some law expecting that the three oldest were performing Cirque de Soleil in the hallway. Nope.  

As I moved from room to room trying to figure out why everything was chaotic I passed by a terrible smell to which I have become nose blind.  My husband followed and said, “No, they’re all fine.  Check the bathroom.” I headed in to be greeted by the foul odor and a nightmare.  Why? Why did my almost 3-year-old poop in the tub?  Why did he not say something?  Why was he not alarmed that poop was floating in the tub with him?  Why?  Why did this curly-headed boy, then pick up the poop and use it as a crayon all around the tub. The biggest question was.  How? How did he not have it all over him?  That, I was taking as a blessing from an otherwise horrific sight.  Carefully I pulled him from the wreckage.  I was actually laughing inside…maybe my husband would have too if he didn’t have a headache.  Funny enough if I had discovered it first, I think I would have rent my clothing a yanked my hair; a probable almost inevitable prediction.

So I could have given up.  I could have refused to help or been mad at my husband who was unwilling to clean it himself, but I didn’t, I just said… “I’ll hit with some spray…” and I remembered that buying paper towels earlier was a blessing and I let the spray work in for a bit.  I was in a groove, I didn’t give up.  I did what I always do.💩

I gave up, to write this piece for a small fraction of time, knowing that I really can never give up.  I won’t be on time, but I will try to be.  My kids won’t always have clean faces or wiped noses, but I will try. I will accept my children as children; my mess-makers that greet me in the morning with disgusting smells and messed-up hair.  Those sleep killers, that try to fit between me and my husband who are “sleeping in” on Saturdays.  Those kids, they depend on me to shape them into independent adults.  By teaching them that respecting ourselves helps us respect other people and that caring for each other helps us care for those in need.

They depend on me so I won’t give up.  I won’t give up on showing my kids that a clean house is important because we can’t help the homeless if we can’t appreciate our own homes.  I won’t give up on a night out with my husband because my kids need to know that our relationship is important for their relationship with us; they need to be reminded that I am not just Mommy and my husband is not just Daddy, so we need to leave the house with each other and others.  

I have to teach them to understand their flaws when they wet the bed… sometimes struggles happen and sometimes, we grow out of the struggles.  Sometimes we just get sick and I will take care of them because nothing compares to Mommy holding them when they feel terrible; someday I want them to hold me and care for me when I’m sick.

Because Mommy volunteers, they know that we are all in this world together; helping each other.  That time sometimes needs to be given to others.  I won’t give up on healthy snacks because we need to ask for things with manners and polite words.  I can’t give up on good dinners, because a well-cooked meal helps us to appreciate the gift of food.  Maybe someday they won’t think twice about feeding someone who is hungry.

I can’t let them fight; I won’t let them argue without communication.  Family is important because we learn relationships from our siblings and cousins amidst the anger, frustration, and annoyances.  I can’t give up on contrition.  Know why you’re sorry because empty apologies are not genuine.  I’d rather you go to your room until you can say it and mean it…even if it takes hours.  Genuine people can own their mistakes.  I want genuine good kids to grow up…but not too soon.

I can’t give up on them because they need me, but mostly because these moments of struggle are all making them really good people.  At the moment I can’t figure out how a poop crayon works in making a good person, but I’ll think of it…wait…that family means sacrifice and sometimes getting our hands dirty.