Finding Contentment

Yesterday, I looked around my bathroom and sighed,  "Can I never have a clean bathroom again?"  The toilet and sink were speckled in dirt, fly-away toothpaste, and scattered clothes and toys filled the empty spaces.  The dreams of an always-clean bathroom mocked me.

My living room and kitchen were in a similar disarray.  As I climbed into the shower, to take a short reprieve from my day, the thought hit me hard, "Remember when you cried to have this?"  Suddenly, my frustration dissolved into content resignation.  Yes, this is my life, and yes, I had prayed for it.

Several years ago, I looked into the back seat of our car and looked into the face of my miracle, Jackson.  I was filled with mixed emotions:  gratitude for the blessing and miracle that he is; sadness for the life he might not know without siblings; contentment for the life we'd been given; and longing for a larger family.  Coming from families of seven siblings each, my husband and I know what it's like to have to fight for a bathroom, wear hand-me-down clothing, eat faster than the others so you can have seconds, sharing a bedroom with more than one sibling, and complaining that someone is breathing your air in the car on a trip across the country.  I worried my Jackson would never experience those moments and learn the lessons that one can only learn in a family of more than one.

At that moment, however, I also felt content resignation.  I was grateful for my husband, my son, and my angel daughter.  We were living and loving life; we'd decided that if our family was only three strong on this earth, then we'd live it to the fullest and enjoy it.  We truly were happy, and I was truly grateful and at peace that we may only ever have one child to raise.

Within a month of those thoughts, we were preparing unexpectedly for Cole's arrival.  Three years afterwards, we were surprised with the news of a daughter arriving to our family.  Here I am, four years later, feeling absolutely blessed although, at times, fatigued.  Lately, the Lord has been blessing me with the gift of contentment.  Instead of pushing my children away, I'm trying to cuddle them more, play a little Nintendo every now and then, and try smiling in the middle of the night when my son wets his bed.  It's not been easy. I've had to push aside MY wants and remember that it's my children who need me.  In fact, I feel the chiding voices remind me when I'm putting my selfish desires (to be alone, to be asleep, to check FB, or to pee in peace) that these moments won't last, that they can be cherished, but I have to do the cherishing.

Loud and clearly, this quote rings in my ears:

If you are still in the process of raising children, be aware that the tiny fingerprints that show up on almost every newly cleaned surface, the toys scattered about the house, the piles and piles of laundry to be tackled will disappear all too soon and that you will—to your surprise—miss them profoundly.  ~Thomas S. Monson

To me contentment means being able to be happy and present in the moment, in the circumstances that I'm currently living.  Contentment doesn't mean I can't change or grow, it just means cherishing those moments.  My son WANTS to sit on my lap, so I should let him.  My baby wants to hear me sing and hold her.  My eleven-year old wants me to play Super Mario Bros. with him, so I do.  My son tells me a long, drawn out story or joke that I frankly don't understand, but instead of rushing or shushing him or staring at my phone, I should listen and be present.

This has been hard for me.  I love my time, my space, my thoughts.  I love to getup and be in control of my circumstances.  I do love to be alone sometimes.  When I'm not in control, I get overwhelmed, retreat into my "space" -- that might be my pantry, my shower, my book, but most likely, my phone/electronics.   I find it's easy to distance myself from the effort, and yet, when I spend more time away from my kids and not in their world, I feel less fulfilled and more guilt.

Now, before you think I'm talking about living every waking moment absolutely loving and being a perfect mother, know that I'm not.  I'm talking about making progress towards being content with my motherhood and embracing it.  To fully embrace it, I need to refill my cup, which I talked about a couple of days ago.  I do take intentional time away through health coaching, going on dates with my husband, exercising, or going out with the girls.  

It's a process, and I'm grateful for it.  Today I'm content, not despite, but because of my dirty bathroom and cluttered living room.