I'm gonna be honest with you...

Warning: This blog entry was written by a girl named Debbie Downer. Or maybe it was Negative Nancy. Whoever it was, I hope you get the point, and you do not have to read any further.

So I notice that a lot of people primarily blog about the good and the fun and the happy things that happen in their families. Cute things their kids say. Fun family outings. Darling posed pictures.

This is great. No one wants to read about the other stuff.

But today I'm going to blog about just that. The other stuff. The unpleasant side of family life. The day-to-day, I-didn't-sign-up-for-this, how-am-I-going-to-survive, no-one-said-it-would-be-this-hard kind of stuff. Most of it tedious and mundane. But the collective effect of it all is enough to drive you insane.

For example, right now I have poop on my shirt. For the second time in a week.

Also, there are ants in my kitchen. These ants are smart - they skip the counters and the sink, and go straight to Ethan's high chair, because they know it is impossible to keep clean. There will always be a yogurt splatter or a banana slice for them to nibble on. No matter how hard or how often I scrub, I can't seem to get it clean enough.


Then other things happen, like Natalie getting Lyme disease. (Remember my old friend, the tick?) It's simple enough to treat, but it means skipping nap time, finding someone to watch your other kids, spending an afternoon at the doctor's office that you despise, cleaning up the little accident that Natalie had in the car on the way there, wrestling with a screaming Natalie so they can weigh her, and antibiotics 3 times a day for 3 weeks.

Do you remember how in Young Women's, you'd have lessons and activities to help prepare you for motherhood? Well, they should have an activity where you learn how to clean up an exploded diaper. Ethan has one every morning. It's tricky trying to get all those little silicon filaments off of sticky wet skin, even in the tub.

They should also give lessons on how to referee. Not a basketball or soccer game, but little kids. Every mom-to-be needs step-by-step instructions on how to make the call when two kids are fighting and you have no idea what happened or who did what first. Because this is how I spend most of my day, and I am completely at a loss.

People blog about the sweet things their kids say. Well, tell me how sweet this is:
Ethan said his first sentence the other day. It wasn't "I love you, Mommy" or "Cookie please." It was, "I poopy. Ew." And speaking of poopy, Natalie likes to tell me, at least daily, that "stinky" and "pee-pee" rhyme. Multiple lectures about appropriate conversation have yet to sink in.

No one tells you that the only time you'll have to exercise is when you're carrying a kicking and screaming child up the stairs for time-outs at least 3 times a day. No one tells you that the constant barrage of questions will make your head spin and cause brain cells to die. No one tells you that the sound of a screaming toddler will cause your hair to start turning gray before you're 30.

My two daughters haven't slept through the night in over a month. Which means that neither has my husband. And neither have I. They are terrified of the thunder, and on the 95% of the nights when there isn't any thunder, they are terrified of the possibility of thunder. Bedtime is painful; it lasts about 2 hours. It eats away at the precious little time I have to get certain things done - things that can't possibly be done with children around.


Like preparing a Relief Society lesson. This has been a hard calling for me, because it requires me to complete sentences and sound coherent...something I haven't been able to do since having kids. The only time I can work on my lessons uninterrupted is when they are asleep. So anytime after 9:30.

Where is my husband? Can't he deal with the kids so I can get something done? The answer is 'no.' He's at work. Or travelling for work. Or at home, working on work. And when he's not working, he's at church meetings or interviews or hometeaching. Saturday is the only day that is ours, and that's the day we try to get all the things done that I couldn't get done during the week.

And since it's been a while since Anders has been home for dinner, may I confess a few things? My kids have hardly eaten anything for dinner besides chicken nuggets and hot dogs for the last couple weeks. Vegetables? No. Fruit? Rarely. Also, I have this great new babysitter. It's called High School Musical 3. It tends my children for me at least once a day.

As I've been writing this, I've had two thoughts come to mind:

1. Being a parent is hard, and on those horrible, rotten, no good, very bad days, it helps to remember that the positives really do outweigh the negatives. I love my kids to pieces. I adore them. I think they are amazing and beautiful and smart. When I think about my options in life, there isn't anything I'd choose in place of this. I choose this over a career; I choose this over daycare; I wouldn't change any of it.


2. "Sacrifice brings forth the blessings of heaven." This line is from the hymn "Praise to the Man." It has been running through my head for the last several weeks. I think sometimes people who don't have children don't get what is so great about it. It's easy to see the ugly side of things - the side I just wrote about - and be deterred from having kids at all. It's hard to believe that the kisses and the hugs and the fun times really do make up for the hard work, the insanity, the relentlessness of it all. But truly there are few things that require greater sacrifice, greater selflessness than having children, and I honestly believe that the blessings and the joy that come are proportionate.