Perspective

It was a Thursday.  This past Thursday. The week had long settled in.  I was weary from four days of work, looking forward to finishing up number five and sliding into 'no alarm clock' Saturday.  I had a gnawing feeling inside...I get it every now and then...like, I was just in the mood to be doing something FANTASTIC.  Instead, the 50 hour work week was giving me mommy guilt.  Working from home has its perks, but in front of me is a constant reminder of everything that 'has to get done'.  The grey weather was a nice backdrop to my symphony of melancholy thoughts.  I was standing at the kitchen sink washing the dinner dishes while a feeling of pity washed over me.  Self pity.  A pity party, because I was so BORED of washing dishes.  So BORED of folding laundry.  So BORED of cleaning the house.  So tired of all of the mundane responsibilities that RUN A HOUSEHOLD. Can't I pay somebody to do all of this, while I am out living an exciting life?  You get the picture. 

Hubby wasn't home or he would have made me laugh....snapped me out of my funk.  But, by now my head was swirling with all of the great things I would rather be doing.  You know, the whole, "I need to start making MY interests a priority - I never knew being an adult included this many chores.  How did my 20's slip by so fast?" talk.  My mood was growing darker and darker. 

And then Nolan started crying.  Ugh.  Let's just top my mood off, right?  I finished the dish I was washing, because let's face it, he cries alot and it was a pitch I was familiar with.  I turned around and saw this.

First off, no I don't usually grab my camera when my children are crying, but I knew it wasn't serious.  Secondly, I was so struck by how my oldest was caring for him that I just wanted to stop and observe for a moment. 

His voice was so gentle when he spoke.  B told Nolan that everything was going to be ok.  He just needed a bandaid.  He had to stop crying though, so mom could take him to the bathroom and "fix his boo boo".  And that's what I did.

Apparently, stepping on toy, metal planes doesn't feel so great.

And just as quick as I put that bandaid on Nolan, my perspective shifted. My pity party ubruptly ended. I was doing something FANTASTIC. I AM doing something fantastic. I am RAISING kids. 

In the blink of an eye, I turned into a sappy, Hallmark card. 

My selfish thoughts took a backseat when I saw that in front of me I had started to shape an empathetic child. He stopped and helped when his fellow man was down!  A bit dramatic, maybe, but my heart was bursting in this simple revelation.....All of the sleepless nights, the poopy diapers, the temper tantrums, the time outs...they are all adding up to something! With four short years under his belt, and little brother following behind with two years, they gave me the gift of pride and the greatest sense of accomplishment.  In my eyes, in that moment, I felt like I had built the Sistine Chapel.  And ya know what?  Sometimes on their whiniest days, it takes about that much strength!