Kind of Hard

People. As of last Friday around lunch time, I became a real life mom. Yeah sure, I pushed my first baby out 6.5 years ago, and then 3 more…

But last week I packed a big ole lunch of pb&j’s and apple slices and water bottles and Annie’s Organic Bunny snacks (move over goldfish), and all four kids and I went to the zoo. Just me and them in my mommy-mobile.

And. It was fun. It felt like all the things I always wanted motherhood to be.


This is what I’m learning about life…

It doesn’t all have to be perfect or enjoyable or precious. It doesn’t all have to be photo worthy.  It doesn’t all have to be me having a blast with babies and wishing they’d stay little and chubby.

I always knew the little years would be hard for me.

The stuff that makes my heart flutter: time with my husband, writing, conversation, travel, books (non-picture ones), etc, these things and more are hard during the little years. In fact, not just hard, almost nonexistent. So, the little years were hard for me. Not the bad kind of hard-but the stretching kind of hard. The doubting kind of hard. The who am I now? kind of hard.

And that kind of hard, if you lean in-usually ends up being the best kind of hard.

The kind of hard that makes you examine your selfishness and reevaluate your preconceived notions and become all the things you were meant to be.

But mama, it’s hard. It’s ok to say it out loud.

And then on the other side of kinda hard, you take a deep grateful breath of fresh clean air and high five yourself for making it to the zoo with apple slices in generic zip locks and all four kids. Because after all, motherhood does suit you well.

Almost every single day, I am grateful that I can see the light at the end of the little years tunnel.

Every chapter of the Tale of Despereaux makes me realize that my big girls are growing into young women and I ADORE who they are.

Every time I let the babies climb up the stairs with only my hand steadying their cute little backs, it’s a chance to marvel at the fact that we did it, we got through the year of two babies. We. Did. It.

I’m not the kind of mom who wants my kids to stay little. I love them growing up. I love reading to them the books I loved as a big kid, I love swimming with them, like actually chasing each other in the pool and trying to talk under water. I love chit chats on the way to dance and coffee dates with one kid at a time and letting them pick out their own clothes.

And I’m ok with admitting that last part of motherhood was kind of hard. It doesn’t mean I don’t love my kids. It doesn’t mean I’m a pessimist. It doesn’t mean I’d do any of it, any differently.

But this part, is kind of awesome.

So yeah, taking all four out alone and it not being a hassle-I feel like I made it in a new way last Friday.

4 thoughts on “Kind of Hard

  1. Proud of you, Anna…knowing that babyhood never has been your favorite part of child-rearing, but you’ve done it well…just as I know you’ll do the next stages well with each unique and “kind of hard” challenges that they bring. Love you! ~ Papa


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