All

About a month ago, I was doing the morning hand off to our super nanny, Eva. I told her the babies had been fed and were playing on the mat, Mary was dressed and ready to go, I was headed to 'my office' above our garage, and the other two were in a holding pattern in the basement. 

Peter started laughing. So did I. The statement seemed ridiculous, yet so honest. Add a lot of noise, perhaps an argument over a necessary brown Lego, a messy kitchen with the crumbs of breakfast scattered everywhere, the aroma of a cold cup of coffee in the air, and snow falling and falling out the window - now it becomes a pretty perfect visual of our recent morning routine. 

Besides working and parenting, Peter and I often find ourselves playing other roles. That of referee, jail warden, entertainer, butler, Sherpa, and yes, air traffic controller. Which makes me chuckle when I think about the ideal of having it all. Yes, we certainly have it all. Or rather attempt to do it all. 

In that all, I might distinguish that it's really more like a little bit of everything, than a full portion of anything. 

That's unfair. I have an over-allotment of work. 

Which makes the portioned minutes outside of my job too few, too frazzled and too fleeting. To fit the all in, activities become abbreviated or worse, multi-tasked. 

I take short runs and call it a work out.  

I cut corners doing laundry. There is a load size called 'super' on our washing machine. All of my loads are super. 

I've taken thirty minute meals down to twenty and fifteen minute suppers.

I make lunches, pack up backpacks, buddle up kids, load them in the car, hug them, mask them up, drop them off, and get on the phone to start my day at a land speed record. My velocity was particularly swift the day that I banged my head on a half open trunk door a couple weeks ago. Blood trickled down my face as I drove the kids to school.  

I get a little sleep at night. And I add a little concealer under my eyes every morning to make myself look a little more awake. 

And what pains me the most, is that I have too little time to spend with my kids every day, especially with any one of them individually. And the time that I do have tends to be a bit distracted as I anticipate the next set of steps in a given day. Instead of being in the moment with an infant who just wants one more cuddle, a toddler who wants me to play Anna and Elsa, a son who wants another story, or a little lady who wants to play a board game, I catch myself thinking about taking the diaper pale out, sending that email, paying the overdue bill, and changing that super-sized load of laundry.

On Thursday night (and I'm cringing writing this), I was caught multi-tasking in a moment that I should have cherished. I was waiting for Margaret to be done with dance class and talking on the phone with my boss. Somehow I missed when the parents were called in to watch the kids do their Valentine's dance. On the ride home, Margaret asked me, no tears in her eyes, why I didn't come watch her? She said all the other moms were there. Why wasn't I? I felt terrible. No horrible. Or whatever word is worse than that. 

I didn't have an answer. I was on the phone. But why? For what? I missed her dance. I missed her. It just killed me. 

From the back seat, she told me, 'it was an accident, Mommy. Miss. Jesse gave me a hug. It's okay.' 

I loved her even more in that moment. 

So having it all ... frankly, there's just not enough time in a day to make that statement true. 

I think the only way we've survived the past several months, is acknowledging that we can't have or do it all. But as we attempt to tackle our daily agenda, we need to add as much love, patience, and forgiveness as possible into everything. Then the things that don't go quite right, like Margaret's dance class or my head wound, we get to a point where there is a story to tell, a joke to share, and a bond that brings us closer. 

This year, Peter wrote in my birthday card, 'thank you for filling this house with so much love.' That recognition of a daily attempt, was honestly the best gift I could have received. 

This month, we both turned another year older, but also another year wiser. 

Lo.