Taking the good and the bad.

I have a snoring five-year-old in bed next to me.  Her beauty eclipses the noises she emits.  There's something about a quiet home (aka:sleeping children) that awakens the beauty in life.  Nevermind that it's after 10 p.m. and, just fifteen minutes ago they were exhibiting their sheer fatigue by falling apart at the smallest injustice (like not getting another drink of water before bed - please.  I've heard that one before).

Tim's at scout camp for the week, so, lucky for him, he doesn't have to listen to me unload the day's frustrations.  It's not a nightly tradition, but today would most certainly have warranted it.  There are times I am overwhelmed with gratitude at the bounty of motherhood - my four, beautiful, healthy, smart, funny, affectionate (I could go on and on) children.   My husband, who works tirelessly so that I can stay home with them, who provides well so that we can enjoy not just the necessities of life, but ample recreation.  He occasionally jokes when I report the day's happenings :  we played outside for hours, the kids climbed trees, we had a picnic on the front lawn, we read books for quiet time, we spent a couple of hours at the pool.  "Oh, you poor thing," he jokes.  And yet he knows, that in between all the "fun" of motherhood is woven threads of bickering, power struggles, rotten attitudes, hurt feelings, unfinished chores, messy houses and utter exhaustion.  It's all part of the package.

A couple of nights ago, one of my children complained to me that "I never do anything for her".   She was up past her bedtime (a common theme, on summer nights, apparently) and I had signed off for the day.  (Remember how I turn into a pumpkin at precisely 8 o' clock?)  That was her cue to unleash all the ingratitude she could muster.  At the precise moment that I was making trivia cards for a game to play in the car on our upcoming road trip to Michigan.  To make those long hours of driving through the likes of Nebraska and Iowa more bearable.  FOR HER.  And I had saved this particular project for after her bedtime.  MY time.  The irony of it was hilarious, but I wasn't laughing.

The complaining, ungrateful daughter provides such a stark contrast to the one who sleeps peacefully beside me now.   And to her credit, the "you never do anything for me, mom" daughter also surprised me today by diffusing several arguments between siblings.  It is impossible to appreciate the good when you haven't tasted the bad.  Raising children is tough stuff - no question.  Luckily, however, I am gifted moments of sheer delight - a belly laugh with my nine-year-old, a game of Sorry with my seven-year-old, an "I love you, Mom" from my five-year-old, and a snuggle with my three-year-old.  Moments that make me feel that I could be a mother of young(ish) children forever.  And ever.