My Two Cents

Ok, so it’s more like a dollar. Or twenty dollars. After this, I might need that money to buy my friends back.

As of late, when I explain how I feel and what my life is like currently, I get a lot of information back. I'm sure its for my use. Never mind if I was just venting or talking or being alive. Anyhow...this is a typical conversation with someone I'm pretty comfortable around.

Person: So, howya doin'?
T: Ok.
P: How's the baby?
T: Well, she's eating better but we still have a lot of struggles. She's a really fun kid, though, so it's easy to move past the last barfing episode 'cause she's smiling at you the whole time.
P: Oh, that must be hard.
T: Yes, it is hard.
P: But, you know, it could be worse.
T: Ya? Well, why don't you just kiss my ass.
Oops. Real response:
T: Yeah, it really could be. I'm grateful she'll grow out of it and is otherwise healthy.
P: How's it being a mom of 2?
T: Kicking my trash.
P: Gosh. I bet. You know, my mom had 56 kids and sewed all of our clothes and made our baby food from scratch. We were all home schooled, too.
T: Well, your mom was clearly on crack. And, it is now glaringly obvious why you are so freakin' screwed up.
Oh, sorry. Here's what I said:
T: Yeah, I don't know how some moms do it. That must have been great.

What the hay people?!? When someone tells you they are having a tough time, the last thing they want to hear is how gracefully other people suffered through worse. The only time people pretend to appreciate that crap in on Pioneer Day.

I had someone, who I consider pretty close to our family, tell me "Well, in terms of your difficulties, you're pretty average you know."

Well, thanks a lot Mr. Sensitivity. That may be the case. MAY. I personally think my babies are little more difficult than average. Having 3 miscarriages, not average. Hello...that's why I'm a high risk pregnancy and not a normal one. Duuuuhhh. Anyways. Whether or not I have it worse than Joe Schmoe or St. Perfect down the street is a mute point. I'm still having a tough time.

I don't love mommy duties. I don't love being at home all day. It's a responsibility I do to the best of my abilities, with love, because I have chosen that path. I don't like it right now. I often dream of being elsewhere. My bosses are demanding, fickle, whiney, inconsistent, and they poop their pants for goodness sakes.

I only have 2 kids. They may be really good kids. Molly the exceptional Mormon down the street might have 5 kids who all have ADHD and dyslexia. Does that change my situation? NO. STILL HARD FOR ME.

Polly the perfectionist might have a husband who's job sucks, with a kid in a wheelchair, and be 3,000 lbs. overweight. Does that change my situation? NO. STILL HARD FOR ME.

I really, really, really don't want the only reason I'm grateful for my life to be because someone else's life sucks it up. I'm trying to be grateful for my life because it's a good life, HF has heard me and answers my prayers, I achieve what I set out to, and I find peace in the gospel. Not because Johnny Joy had his leg amputated and smiled as he wheeled himself home the next day. (Do I need to buy any one's love yet?)

It's my truth. I'm struggling with 2 kids. I don't mind sayin' it. My youngest projectile vomits her $50-a-can formula all over my already trashed carpet at least 4 or 5 times a week, hates to eat, and can't poop on her own. That's like $2 every time she pukes, by the way. My oldest won't piss on the pot, wears her underwear on the outside, doesn't sleep, and trashes my house. I'm sure she's just like every other 3 year old. Did I mention I don't really like 3 year old people? When I tell you about it, it's because you asked about my life. Or you read my blog and I can't be held responsible for that. It's my life. Not bad, not good. I'm not complaining. It just is.

I know my life is richly blessed. I'm healthy, Allen has a great job, Lexi is adorable and insanely smart, and Addie is a miracle baby that is supposed to be part of our family - barf and all. I have a nice home that will be fantastic when we get done. I have a decent brain, good parents, family I get along with most of the time, an education, great life experiences, great friends. Yeah, I know.

Being a mom is still hard.

What? What is that you say? You know? You were a mom too? You had it worse? This is how you earn your stripes? I get that, but do we always have to say that to one another. I'm guilty, too, I know. Here's an example:

My great friend had a girl about 3 months after we had Lexi. This was her second child. One day, I called (or she called me, who knows) to see how things were going:

T: Hey there! How are you?
J: Oh. We're great. (She's always so optimistic.) D is awesome. He's a great big brother. L is a great baby.
T: I'm going to die. (Did I mention I only had one kid at this point and she is now trying to adjust to 2?)
J: I know. It's so hard. Plus, Lexi was so sick.
T: Yeah. We didn't even get to hold her for 8 days. She has reflux. I have no friends or family here. It's hard. I didn't think it would be like this. So, enough of that. Give me the dirt on delivery.
J: Well, it was much better than the first time. But, L started looking like a pumpkin a few days later so we had to go back to the hospital for 3 days to stay under the bili-lights. It was awful. She would be crying and I couldn't' hold her because she had to stay under there. I could only take her out to nurse her. I just sat there and felt awful.
T: YEAH. TRY NOT HOLDING HER AT ALL FOR THE FIRST 8 DAYS AND THEN LEAVING HER THERE FOR 5 WEEKS YA BIG WIMP!
I didn't say that. No. I knew it sucked. I'd lived it - times a lot.
T: I know, it's awful. I'm so sorry.

Now, I'm not perfect. Far from it. But would it have really helped to tell my poor friend who had never had her kid in a hospital except when they were born, that she should get tough? Did my experience negate her experience? No way. My experience simply offered me a chance to be a better friend.

I think that sentence right there is the key: one experience does not negate another experience. What may be easy for one, may be the ultimate test for another. We are not created equal. Why do we always feel the need to keep reminding each other of that simple fact? Can't we just support our friends and family? (Unless they are totally and completely out of touch and whine about everything and aren't grateful for anything and then you can choose not to be that person's friend anymore or verbally bash them until they are nothing more than a puddle of ooze at your feet. If you try and tell me that I'm that person, I'm gonna reach out and touch you, though.)