Just grateful.

I never thought I'd have to make a choice between using the bathroom or calming a screaming child. Between feeding my baby or holding my toddler (or preschooler, or kindergartener). Between emptying the dishwasher to accomodate a full sink of dirty dishes or preparing lunch for myself. There's simply not enough time in the day. I haven't blogged in over a week and a half. Blogging is basically the only thing I do for myself nowadays. And even as I type, I'm procrastinating planning an activity for Activity Days. It's tomorrow. Tim got home at 7 tonight, scarfed down dinner, dropped in on our rental house to fix a dishwasher, made a 15 minute appearance at home to read a bedtime story to the girls before rushing off to his Wednesday game night with the guys. I can't be upset with him, after all, it's pretty much his only diversion. Where's mine?
It's times like these that I am forced to remember that no matter how hard it gets, someone always, always has a tougher situation than I do. Tim seems to be working later and later as the weeks roll by, just trying to avoid giving any reason for his struggling company to let him go. At least he has a job. And I have friends who don't see their spouses except on Sundays, or whose husband's deployment results in an absence too long and painful for me to even fathom.
Some days two arms seem insufficient to carry out the duties that are required of me. Often the infant in one arm necessitates that I accomplish something with only one hand - buckling a car seat, fixing dinner, zipping up a jacket. It's then that I think of a friend for whom life with only one arm has been a reality for years. And yet she still manages a household with three young boys and a very busy husband.
I'm reminded of Joseph B. Wirthlin's talk in the most recent General Conference and I quote his words:
Whenever my steps led through seasons of sadness and sorrow, my mother’s words often came back to me: “Come what may, and love it.”
How can we love days that are filled with sorrow? We can’t—at least not in the moment. I don’t think my mother was suggesting that we suppress discouragement or deny the reality of pain. I don’t think she was suggesting that we smother unpleasant truths beneath a cloak of pretended happiness. But I do believe that the way we react to adversity can be a major factor in how happy and successful we can be in life.
If we approach adversities wisely, our hardest times can be times of greatest growth, which in turn can lead toward times of greatest happiness.

So true. So while the burdens seem heavy at times, I can't help but be grateful for the opportunity to grow - to become a bit more Christlike in this journey, yes, even to find the humor in it all. On the one hand I daily endure piercing cries from little girls, their needs unmet by an already occupied mother. On the other hand I enjoy peals of laughter, giggling as they take turns flying an airplane, suspended in the air by my feet then tumbling to the floor with tickles. They won't be little forever. Thank heaven. And yet, they won't be little forever. Time to drink in the moment.