I'm Not Lazy, I'm Just Tired

So, I've got a confession to make to everyone:

This whole three kids thing is kicking my butt. 

I used to be a fun, energetic mom.  I used to have sweet bedtime routines that included a bath every night, along with singing, playing, and getting dressed in PJ's.  I used to bake.  I used to use naptime productively.  I used to clean my floors before they got to the sticky, disgusting stage, and we ALWAYS had something clean and non-stained to wear.

Now?

Bathtime is once a week, on Sunday morning before our 1:00 church (Have I mentioned that I LOVE 1:00 church?  If we can get a nap in beforehand, that is.  Otherwise, my children are the devils' own during sacrament meeting. Anyways.  Tangent). I don't mop or sweep nearly as often as I used to, I'm lucky if the boys' floor is visible at least once a week, while we're still eating decent meals, they're more often than not repeats and simple fare that's makeable within a 30-minute window, and I can't remember the last time I tried out a new recipe.  Laundry?  Hah.  I currently can't see one of my couches in my front room for the pile of laundry covering it--and that's, unfortunately, pretty typical for me.



 

You know what helps me--a lot, actually?  The fact that nearly every mother of more than three kids that I've talked to has said that three was the hardest stage for them--the oldest still isn't old enough to help you, but you have more kids than arms, and you and your spouse are finally outnumbered.  I can't tell the number of times I've heard someone say, "If you have 3 kids, you might as well have 8, because the difficulty level is about the same."  And can I tell you how good that makes me feel, that other people have thought that having three kids was hard?
What is it about me that appreciates knowing that other people struggle with the same things I do?  When I'm having a rough day, I have one neighbor whom I can always call to commiserate.  We'll compare who yelled at our kids the most, who has the stickiest floor, or who has the most family members still in pajamas (today, I'm sure I'd win--it's 1:00 in the afternoon and 3 of the 4 of us at home are still in PJs), but it's somehow always uplifting to talk to her.  Granted, she's a gorgeous, skinny, talented thing who always seems to have a clean house, but when I talk to her, she never fails to be real, but positive at the same time.
I don't think it's a "misery loves company" thing, I just think it's the fact that when I see people I admire admit to having difficulties and hard days, it helps me to think, "Hey!!  She's a good person and a wonderful mom, and yet she has some of the same struggles I do.  Maybe I'm not such a terrible human being after all for losing my temper over a spilled jar of jam this morning!"
I had another friend post a very real blog post where she talked about some of the difficulties of motherhood.  It wasn't whiny or complaining (which these types of posts can sometimes be), but it was validating!  It mentioned the frustration that comes from having everything you do undone within a moment, but in the next sentence it also acknowledged the moments of breathless joy and wonder over watching your children learn, grow, and develop.  I truly appreciated it. 
It's encouraging, because it helps validate the fact that, yes, this whole motherhood thing?  It's doable--but not necessarily easy or natural for anyone, no matter how things may look from the outside.
And that makes me feel better about my sticky kids and crunchy floors today.