One word.

If I could pick one word to sum up the past 4 1/2 months of my life, it would be: productive.

I find that word interesting because I didn't feel productive during those 4 months.  In fact, I often complained that I didn't feel like I was doing a very good job being a wife and mom.

My kids watched way too much T.V.  They got a lot more snacks that usual.  Mostly consisting of suckers.  Logan actually throws a fit if he doesn't have a sucker by 10a.m.  I realized just the other day that by Logan's age, Mara was a time-out pro, but Logan doesn't even understand the concept.

My house...well, I don't even want to go there.  Let's just say that I was doing laundry only when it meant we'd have to go naked if I procrastinated any longer.  I scrubbed my toiled maybe 3 times?  (If you are reading this mom, just pretend you didn't just hear that).  Don't worry I at least vacuumed and picked up toys daily.  Oh wait, yeah...that must've been a figment of my imagination.  Denial is very powerful.

But guess what?  I felt like I found myself.

I hear that is a common emotion when one finds the major they love.  But I think it means more than that.

I gave myself permission to let the little things go.  I didn't feel guilty when I'd cuddle up with a blanket and take a nap while Logan was napping and Mara was watching a movie.  In fact, I have some very precious memories now of my little Rue tucking me in tighter and giving me a kiss on the cheek when she thought I was out cold.

I cherished the moments I had with my kids when it was just me & them, instead of feeling overwhelmed when we hadn't seen Sean in 4 days.

The most ironic thing about all of this is that in the moment, I felt out of control.  In the moment, I felt overwhelmed, overworked, and underpaid.

During these 4 months I had 2 of the scariest medical situations in my life (aside from my lovely pregnancies).  I thought for sure that those things would derail me.  But they didn't.  They gave me more drive, more determination, more strength.


Don't worry, I'm no Saint.  I'm pretty sure I complained the entire way through it.  I felt like a bad mom at the time.  I felt like a slacker spouse.  I felt like a bad friend.  I even (gasp) resented certain obligations.

Isn't hindsight a beautiful thing?  I believe it to be the greatest gift.

Hindsight is allowing me to forgive myself for all the "bad" moments.  It's allowing me to see situations for what they really were, and it is allowing me finally understand that I'm human.

I'm just a human.  Making mistakes.  Just like everybody else.