what i want you to see.

last night, papa was gone for Thursday night practice.  like he is every Thursday.  I was making dinner.  tiny was sleeping.  big, little and I were in the kitchen dancing (and just to be completely honest, little was laughing at my singing).  it was a moment that I felt that, 'this is the kind of mom I pictured myself being. dancing in the kitchen while I make dinner.;
my mind quickly reminded me of all of the things I was falling short on in that moment.  my house was a wreck.  books covered the floor of the dining room.  toys all over in the den and kitchen floor.  dirty clothes on the bathroom floor.  dishes all over the counter.  both the kitchen and dining room table needed washed.  there were  multiple piles of papers in both rooms as well.  and to top it all off, my kids were going to be eating cheesy noodles (box mix macaroni and cheese, which I validate because I buy the high end organic stuff) for the fourth time this week.
later I found myself sitting on the closed toilet, nursing tiny, while little went potty, and big was swinging on her indoor swing that hangs in the bathroom doorway. 
little was doing acrobatics and signing 'let it go' in between, while big was standing on the swing and talking at me about her birthday party (that isn't for another six months) and all the things that would be happening. I was truly not taking in anything big was saying, which was causing her great frustration when she would ask a question and then have to repeat herself. also as was bound to happen, little fell off of her toilet, it flipped upside down and, hooray, she had gone potty.
it struck me that if I were to share these moments with others via some sort of social networking sight, I had two ways of presenting it.  one made me look really good.  the other made me look not so great.  neither would be a lie.
they were both true.  I was doing great.  there were things I could do better.  there was lots of fun.  there was lots of chaos. I love being a mom.  I want a break from my kids. 
there are those people who only share one half of these stories all the time.  those moms who show their pinterest projects, and smiling kids, and the dancing in the kitchen moments. clearly they have it all together, and parenting is a breeze.
then there are those who share how they can't get their kids to pick up, or eat healthy, or even to sit on the potty, yet alone pee in it and spill it everywhere.  clearly they are failing, and parenting is really hard.

i hope that my children remember and drink in the memories of dancing in the kitchen.  i also hope they remember that our house wasn't always neat.  we have fun.  we laugh.  we get frustrated and raise our voices a few levels higher than we want to.  we say sorry.  we forgive each other.  and, we do it all over the next day.  parenting is great. and hard. and great.  it's because it's full of interactions between humans.  and, if i can do anything well, it will be to teach them to give themselves grace for the moments that i might not want you to see on facebook.

drowning.

i'm swimming.

most days, against the current.  and the current is strong.  and it threatens to pull me back with it.


 

but, I keep fighting.  kicking.  going places.  then, a day comes along.  and it threatens to not just drag me backwards, but to pull me under.  and the water from above just keeps coming.  washing over me.  leaving me breathless.

there are days that start with the continuation of processing the neuro-psych evaluation we got back about our big.  the words the doctor spoke, both gently, and encouraging, still left us unsure of how to best move forward in schooling her.  and, it looks like home is the way to go.

and a little, who's IEP is still not yet done.  and we should get services in place in time for the school year to end, and nothing to have actually ever been implemented.  all because we fought for what was best for our daughter.  and today she's sick.  and having seizures.  and incessantly asking to watch signing time. and starting to walk up the steps by herself.  and climbing onto the couch to unfold the laundry as I fold it.

and a tiny who only turns his head to the left.  so much so that he can't turn his head to the right, and the back of his head is getting a flat spot.  so we schedule an appointment for p.t.  and a follow up renal ultrasound to see if he outgrew his hydronephrosis.  and the tucking away of the anxieties about him not yet meeting any milestones, and regularly crossing his eyes.  and longing.  wanting something to feel easy. 

as the waters rush over, I hear the voices from above.  the ones that asked me while I was pregnant what I was going to do with a healthy kid, a typical kid, a normal kid, this time.  and wanting to grab them and pull them down with me.  to let them see that nothing feels normal from down here.  that once you have been here, you lay in bed at night evaluating every thing your child is, or isn't doing.

when you have been down here, you end up needing a counselor to walk you through your anxieties.  they are big, and they feel real, even when everyone else around you is telling you that everything is fine.  it doesn't feel fine. it feels hard.  and overwhelming.  and, a little bit like things aren't allowed to be easy.

from the outside,  it all appears normal though.  most of the people on the sideline just see someone swimming.  and some of them cheer loudly.  the cheering is often what keeps me from completely being swept away.  it lets me know I can do another lap.  every now and then, I even have someone who tags in for me for a while.  who takes a few laps, and lets me sit on the side, huddled under a towel, catching my breath.

tonight, i'm tired of smiling through things.  i'm tired of specialist, and therapies, and meetings, and evaluations.  i'm tired of hospital stays, and learning new diagnoses, and the fears that have taken up residence in my head.  so i'm going to choose to share those things.  i'm going to choose to be real. because today, tonight, it feels like i'm drowning.
tomorrow morning, i'll get up, crank up some music, and sing louder than the fears in my head.