Behind Door Number Three

About a week ago I wrote this post.  It was a pretty mushy one.  I went on about stuff I loved.  Of course my kids were the theme.  They got the final sentence, if you will, about things that make me happy.  

I finished writing it, feeling pretty good about my role as mother.  I hit publish.  As timing goes, it was also time to get the kids up from their nap.  I could hear them chattering to each other while I was spell checking.  (psh, who am I kidding?  I never speel check.)  

With a small glow still about my face, still basking in the warmth I had just felt from writing about the little darlings, I enter their room.  Keep in mind, on the walk down the hall I had sent up a little prayer of gratitude.  Because I was.  So thankful for the posse I've been blessed to rear.  

I open their door and a wall of smell hits me.  My eyes are watering from the smell, so I have to wipe them to see what the source was.  One of my angels who I had just thanked God for, was smearing things on her face that do not belong outside a diaper.  The perpetrator was grinning from ear to dirty ear.  

I dry heaved a little.  

I know this is not a pleasant image.  Forgive me for even relating the story with even a little detail.  But it was such a powerful lesson for me.

My gut reaction was to be angry.  I mean really.  

I have to bathe a kid, scrub a crib, sanitize every area within their tiny arm's length, gather the sheets and blankets for the wash---all while two others are becoming inpatient because they are still sitting in their crib while a sibling seems to be having a fun bath.  (It was not fun.)  

But that dang feeling of warmth and love was still fresh in my heart and assaulted nostrils.  My mom always says that God has a sense of humor.  I am starting to agree with her.  

Me: Dear Lord, I am so thankful for these darlings in my life.  Thank you.

God: (chuckle) I'm glad to hear you say that daughter, with such sincerity too.  Enjoy the next 20 minutes.

During the clean up process, between dry heaves and trips to the bathroom and garage for supplies, I was calm and collected.  I was also set up for reflection.  

There are parts of this parenting gig that are tough.  I'm not just talking yucky messes either.  

I'm not even going to start on the topic of the only thing I ever wear are t-shirts covered in banana smears and snot stains and not being able to tell the difference between the two or the fact that I even try to tell.  That's a different post, for a different day.   

Have you ever worked in customer service and come home from work feeling like you were yelled at all day by unhappy customers?  

Yeah.  There are moments when all I see are unhappy clients, screaming in my face because a fellow customer stole the truck they were playing with.  

Ever served tables and have a customer send back their food because it wasn't to their liking? 

Yeah.  My guests throw their entrees on the floor in disgust.  Sometimes it was their favorite dish the 

week before.   

You expect me to eat THIS?  You must be joking.  I only eat cheese quesadillas the 2nd, 3rd, 4th and 1st Tuesday of the month!  Except on a month that has less than 31 days!  Why don't you care?

Even with the snarky dialogue I make up and really gross stuff that sometimes goes on around here, I really did mean that prayer I said a week ago, as I was walking towards certain mayhem.

In fact, it was because of that stinky mayhem that made me realize what a lucky gal I am.  

I forget sometimes, that 5 years ago, I was begging for messes to clean up.  I was pleading for a little dependent that needed me to teach them, love them and walk beside them.

I asked for at least one.  I have three.    

While we are still working on the whole "let's not take our diaper off and investigate what's inside" lesson, I hope they are getting the "mommy loves me" lesson.  Because I do.  

I hope they will always know how deep my gratitude is cemented in my once broken heart.  

I hope they will always know how they helped heal me and make me whole.  

I hope they always know the lessons they have taught me, both during our time together now, and before they even arrived, have made me a better person.

I hope everyone leaves their diaper on, forever more and are all potty trained within 24 hours of attempting to do it.

(I'm a woman of simple hopes and dreams.)  

I hope they know how much I love them.  I hope, I hope, I hope.