Empathy

I feel a lot.

Sometimes I wish I could just numb the 'feelings' part of my brain(and the "I really like food" part of my brain but that's a different post).

I'm like a sponge taking on the feelings or attributes of those around me. Even the characters in a book or movie. When I saw the movie "Return to Me" many years ago, I cried for three days. Pretty sure my husband was ready to call the Paddy Wagon. I read a book series about people living during the Ice Age and I suddenly wanted a lot of herbal tea and a hankering for mammoth meat. My mom has told me several times that I need to be careful with what I read because I take on any darkness, sadness or light I may read. Needless to say, I avoid Virginia Woolf after I made the mistake of reading Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar. I've gotten better at compartmentalizing what I read or watch but I still can feel any darkness creeping in and I have to read something light, funny or spiritual for a while.

I can put myself in someone else's shoes with relative ease which tends to put me in uncomfortable situations. At girls camp one year, we were doing an over night back packing trip and I shared a tent with my best friend. That night it rained like there was an ark nearby and my friends sleeping bag got soaked. I hate being cold and wet so I told her she could share mine. She was very little. So we squeezed into my sleeping bag but guess what. I am ridiculously claustrophobic so it wasn't long before I freed myself from my own personal hell into another personal hell. I was wet, cold and wide awake all night. My friend slept great.

I cannot watch the news because I just can't handle all the ugliness. A friend posted a video that showed a woman beating her baby. I'm not kidding. she was beating. A baby. It was a "share this so we can find this woman and bring her to justice" kind of posts. I watched a little bit and cried. All day. Because there was nothing I could do for this baby and knowing she was not the only one living that life was more than I could bear.

If one of my kids gets their heartbroken, my heart is broken. I've been known to be upset and crying
long after they have gotten over it. My oldest has already been in some tough situations and every time she has had to deal with these things at such a young age, I break down. Even dealing with the recent issue, I couldn't talk to her without bawling about it.

I know, I'm a total blast.

It kinda makes me feel a little nuts sometimes. It's not a constant thing, I am usually pretty mellow. I contemplate taking antidepressants almost every month just to tone down the feelings so maybe I can handle these moments a little better. I wouldn't say I was depressed (and, trust me, I have been down that very dark and scary road before) but I can get so weighed down by it all that I just want to crawl into a dark hole and be left alone so I don't have to feel. It's times like this that I am very grateful I haven't taken up drinking. I honestly think I would be a drunk.

The awesome thing about feeling so much is the joy. When I have joy, it's a taste of pure heaven! When I can take a moment to stop worrying about EVERYTHING and feel nothing but that moment, it almost makes the heavier times worth it. Like the times I find myself in a place that is so beautiful it takes my breath away. Having a successful and fun outing with the family. A genuine spiritual experience shared with my family. Or an honest and open conversation with my husband over a quiet dinner together. Laughing at something funny a kid has done or said. Watching the pure joy on my baby's face as we play with bubbles or she sees an airplane in the sky, a horse, a flower.

As I laid in bed last night, feeling way more than I could handle, I thought of someone else Who felt way more than any of us could ever handle. I thought of My Savior Jesus Christ as He took on the pains, sins, sorrows and anguish of the world. And He did it all alone while his friends slept. He plead with The Father that this burden may be removed from Him, knowing full well He was the only one that could do it. An angel was sent to hold Him and strengthen Him, but He had to go it alone. The pain was so much, He bled from every pore. After this very long night, He was betrayed by a friend, taken, tried, whipped and hung on a cross by those who didn't understand.(Luke 22:41-23:46)

He did all this for me. And for you. Because of that, He knows my pains, my struggles and He can be my Angel holding me, strengthening me. He didn't pick and choose what He'd take on, He didn't say, "that person does not deserve this", He didn't shut it down when it became too much. He did it all. For each and every one of us.

He knows my name and I all I have to do is ask. He doesn't care about what I did or didn't do, about what I wear or the stupid things I say. He loves me no matter what. And He will take it on with me. He has taken it on for me.

And for that I am eternally grateful.

And then there was...so many!!

I love my kids.

I mean, just look at 'em!

Yup, I made those! Well, ElRey helped, too.

I was blessed with awesome kids.

I know many people that have five, six, even eight kids and I admire them and think they are amazing because they can take that on, but, I tell you what: four girls is A LOT! My friend, who also has four kids, and I have a running joke that four feels like too many because it IS too many! Each child demands special attention and when you're the only parent around to give that, most of the time, it can become very overwhelming. It's overwhelming when both parents are tag teaming the attention, too. Mostly parenting is overwhelming. Period.

Case in point: The other morning I was working on getting everyone ready for school, which is always super fun. This particular morning I had one kid that needed to shower and I happened to be using the bathroom. In the one and only working bathroom in our house. There was another daughter who also needs to use the bathroom IMMEDIATELY. So, I finish my 'bidnes', one daughter is getting in the shower and the other is hoping around in the hallway. I say, "I'm done, I'm just washing my hands. You can go now."
       "But I want everyone out of the bathroom," she says.
       "Sorry but your sister needs to shower. You're just going to have to go while she's in here," I say.
She continues to hop around but now adds whimpering and a whiny moan to her routine.
      "Babe," I say with as much early morning patience I can muster, "If you gotta go, go! There's no such thing as privacy in our home so just go!"

That's when I leave her to move on to other attempts at getting them all ready for school and get myself ready for my run immediately after they go. So I'm trying to make my shake and my two year old is 'helping' me. As she goes to shake up the blender to get things moving, she kind of knocks it off the spinner (I'm getting technical now!)a little so it makes this really loud sound and as I'm running back in to fix it and console the now crying baby, my other daughter starts bawling because she's pretty sure she deleted "Flappy Bird" and can't get it back now. So, I'm holding my baby, trying talk my one daughter 'off the ledge', hollering to the others to hurry and get dressed with one asking where her leggings are in a panic because she simply cannot wear anything but leggings, while the showered one stands there in the middle of the living room, in her towel 'air drying' (because why would we use a towel to dry off? While still in the bathroom? That's weird.) We're down to about 20 minutes before we have to leave and we're searching for shoes and amputating limbs brushing hair, suddenly the two year old has to go potty and she couldn't possibly go on her own, she needs her mother there to watch and then cheer her on only to have the child say, "hmphf" at my praise and I'm trying to guzzle my shake wishing it was a bacon, egg and cheese biscuit.

When I finally get the older ones to school and successfully stayed out of McDonald's drive thru, it takes everything in me to not crawl back into bed. I don't always win that battle.

We won't even talk about about that fun thing called 'homework'.

Now, I wouldn't trade places with anyone. Except maybe that beach bum I saw in Laguna Beach. I bet his life is awesome but I couldn't imagine my life any other way.

I am pretty sure that when my kids found out they were coming to me, they were hoping for a mom that didn't wake up like a bear being disturbed way before her hibernation is over only to discover someone ate the last salmon. Or a mom that didn't forget what they just told her 20 minutes ago. And maybe a mom that didn't eat all the goodies while they were at school. I'm pretty sure they thought they would get a mom that would never ever dance like a dork at red lights while Katy Perry sings about a lion or something.

But I was planning on kids that brought me breakfast in bed at noon that did all my chores, did drink runs for me and braided my hair while the other one rubbed my feet and another gave me a manicure.

So, yeah, a lot of dreams have died.

But even though there is just waaaaay too many of us in our small house and there's a lot of screaming and crying (mostly ElRey ;) ), we're doing our best to make a happy home.

One scream/tantrum/bawl fest at a time.

Why is there a wet towel on the living room floor??