Just Keep Smiling

Grocery shopping, without kids in tow, is like a spa day. I never saw this coming. Before I had three beautiful girls, I never valued my “alone” time. In fact, I remember cruising the Riggins strip, bored, and wasting gas for the millionth time.

“We could go up River again.”

“We could cruise and think about it.”

Life is funny this way. What I used to think of as challenging doesn't compare to what I now consider easy. Calling the DMV was a hard task at 19. Scheduling, bills, and new responsibilities made my mind ache. Cleaning my van was also a difficult task. I would put it off until I couldn't find my shoes and then when I actually made heads or tails of something I would feel oh so proud of myself.

Then I had kids.

To get up the nerve to drive to town and do all of the errands, with a two year old and a newborn was scary. I would put it off until I was out of milk and toilet paper. Then I'd get up my nerve, pack my diaper bag, my back pack, and my fire hydrant and get ready for the town trip.

“What if the baby cries.....what if she poops?! What if the two year old throws a fit and runs away from me and I have to chase her with the baby in the front pack?! Okay, calm down. It will be over soon.”

Honestly, once I got out of that stage I wondered why it was so hard. I wondered why I had turned down all of those invitations to go to uncomfortable places where I couldn't pull out my “nursing facilities” and had no where to sit down to corral the two little squealing kids on my lap and pretend to smile. The stress that comes with the care giving of little humans is intense but short lived. As soon as I would get used to one “stage” it would be over and we'd be onto a new one that I knew nothing about.

I quickly learned tricks that come second nature these days:

• Make breakfast right away. If you feed them, they stay quiet.
• Always take snacks and water bottles wherever you go.
• Always take books, crayons, paper, toys, and a trash bag wherever you go.
• Always take extra baby clothes wherever you go.
• Always take an extra Mom shirt wherever you go....baby spit up stinks.
• Never underestimate the power of a tub of wet wipes....for all ages.
• If you leave the Canyon in February, don't forget to change your flip-flops...it's not spring anywhere else!!
• Whenever anyone asks you what you've been up to do not answer, “Oh, nothing...” Look at that list above!!! It took you an hour just to load everyone in the car!

So, when I get a chance, at 35, to leave the Littles behind and venture off to town by myself, I take it. And, I also give the disclaimer, before I leave, “Don't wonder where I am, and what took me so long. This is my salon day.” That way, when I run into a friend I haven't seen in a while or when I get to visiting over the price of avocados with the produce lady, there are no worries. Mommy needs to talk to adults that aren't asking where the stapler is or telling me what sissy did wrong. Sanity lies in the fringes.

It's a little bit different now. It truly does get easier. Instead of trying to smile through the stress of the screaming three year old and pretending it's okay, I turn to the nine year old and ask her calmly to unload the grocery cart while the seven year old holds my purse. Then I grab up the tyrant and off we trundle to the bathroom where all things meaningful are sorted out. When we emerge shining and triumphant, I can hope and trust that the older of my girls have been responsible and polite and all I need to do is pay the nice lady and get on my way to the next stop, which is hopefully my house.

With older kids as examples, it's so much easier to say, “Is anyone else yelling and throwing a fit?” The three year old wipes her eyes, sniffs, and looks around. They smile down at her. Peer pressure at it's finest!

But, don't quote me just yet. I know I will freak out again before it's all over with...maybe today. I know that right when I think I have it all together it will fall apart...just sometimes. I will juggle, not three, but four kids soon. I will learn things I didn't know I knew.

There will be those certain days when I should have just stayed home and said, “Screw the 8-hr-only produce sale and the three green peppers for a dollar. Let's watch another movie and brush each others hair.” The days when I decide to force things to happen, just to prove what a She-Woman I really am, are the days that I usually wad up my pretty little list and toss it over my shoulder in surrender and defeat.

Time to admit I'm just human. Time to forget about the stuffed chicken breasts with spinach salad and that really good homemade dressing. Time to grab for the jar of Prego. Spaghetti it is... and let the dishes sit. They'll be there in the morning, all crusty and ready for some lovin' and hot water. And the longer my Boyfriend and I are married the more keen he is on getting that look when he walks through the door. “Don't even ask if I got that thing done for the thing.....I'm here and dinner is made and I'm still sane. Just tell me I look pretty even if I am pregnant...again!” And he does. And we snuggle in and say, “What a beautiful family we have!” (Spaghetti faces and all!)

ROLL WITH THE CHANGES

I am not always accepting of change. When I create it on purpose, it's fine. But I instantly freeze up into shock mode when it jumps up, slaps me in the face, and hollers, “HERE I AM!!”
Maybe I'm busy doing something else. Maybe I'm enjoying being where I am. Maybe I don't want to adjust myself to the new.

I feel 12 years old a lot of the time. I won't lie. When I was a kid I thought that I'd be grown up when I grew up. Sometimes, I am. But, most of the time, I am 12 in a 35 year old body. I throw fits, I cry, and I fight with the inevitable.

I remember when I got the “one day you'll be a woman” talk. I listened politely, while playing with my shoe lace and looking anywhere but in the eyes of the speaker of doom. I said what I was supposed to say...sort of...and skipped along my merry little way, back out to the dirt pile I was playing in. And there alone, making roads and dams out of rocks and sticks, I decided firmly and resolutely that all of that “woman” stuff would NOT happen to me. It sounded like a complete and utter nuisance and hassle. I would be the miracle exception and just not have to deal with anything that made my life that complicated. I still had visions of beating the boys in football at recess and winning every race in P.E. And I did, and I would...until about 5^th grade.

All of a sudden it wasn't acceptable to wrestle the boys during gym class. I remember, vividly, ripping off my earrings, handing them to my teacher, tucking in my shirt, and running over to tackle the nearest “enemy.” I was strong. I also had beginner boobs. I had been trying to ignore them, but other people seemed to keep reminding me. I was overly embarrassed when the teacher called me back to put my earrings in and have another talk about this blasted, “acting like a lady” thing. Adults frustrated my world. 

I cried when it all changed and I had to “grow up.” I really thought that somehow I would be able to skip all of it. Jr. High was the worst and best time of my life. Mostly the worst. Boys that liked me were mean to me. Girls that didn't like me were nice to me...at least to my face. And, the hellish hormones, that make me the woman I am today, took over my life like some parasite eating up all of the good stuff. I was half girl and half lady. I didn't know what to do with what I was given. So I tried to hide it away and pretend that maybe it would all get easier eventually. And it did. I got used to being me. In fact, after realizing that everyone was at the same level of “uncomfortable,” I learned to laugh about the changes.

Now, at 35, when the news of the 4^th baby dawns on me like the breaking of day, and there is no way to slow it down and say, “Well, maybe we'll do that later,” I react about the same way I always have. It's called shock. It's called fear. It's called elation. It's called “Motherhood.” I wasn't a natural right away. This profession kind of had to ease it's way upon my just like everything else. But, none of it would I change. And, my 12 year old self can just buck up, because, for all of the uncomfortable changes that I must go through to make a new Hollon, it is MORE than worth it in the end.

But the reality is hard on a parent. I KNOW that I have to give completely of myself to create this new life. It's all about me and not about me at all. To get we have to give. To create we have to become.

It wasn't as scary the first time I got pregnant. I had no idea what I was in for. The second time I would wake up in the middle of the night and shudder to myself thinking of contractions and labor and wondering how I would get through it. Then I would talk myself down from the proverbial ledge and remind myself that I was strong and that I could make it through anything. When you grow up, you have to be your own Mommy. I also had a trick. I would think of the weakest women I knew and say, "If they can do it, so can I” (I know that's mean but misery loves company of the lesser strength.)

Now I wake up in the middle of the night with insomnia that comes with my body preparing for long nights ahead where I will nurse and mutter, “Shush, shush...you're okay...Mama's gotcha.” It's old hat now. It's not taken for granted, by any means, but it's comfortable and understood. It's also even more of a miracle because I see what becomes after ten years of growth and love, change and tears.

We only get today once. We always only have today. That's it. So if I need to laugh or cry or stomp or dance, I'll do it. Because, that's me today. That's the change having it's way with me. To become a butterfly one must sit still and wait. Waiting doesn't come naturally, it must be practiced. We are always hurrying into the next step. But, when we wait patiently for the change to occur and put ourselves fully into the journey...we get off of our caterpillar bellies and we FLY!!

Life is utterly miraculous. I'm glad I can't stop the changes. I'm glad I don't always get to choose what comes next. Because, at the end of the day, lying in bed and looking at the beautiful faces of my perfect girls and my gorgeous husband, makes me feel like I am right where I am supposed to be.

Besides.....all of this Mommy stuff, by far, surpasses the fun of wresting 5^th grade boys!