These Tired Eyes

I know you can see them. Sleepy, heavy, sometimes bloodshot. I look in the mirror and see the dark circles that surround them. Sure, some good under eye cream might help a little, but that's not what I'm talking about. I know you see the exhaustion on my face because I see it too. I wear makeup to cover what I can, and what's left, well... that's motherhood. My eyes tell the story of this phase of my life. They tell the events of the night before, when a potty trained 5 year old and a potty trained 2 (almost 3) year old wet the bed in the same night, hours apart. They tell how I changed two separate sets of sheets at 2:30 and 4:30 in the morning. How I help sleepy bodies into clean jammies and tuck them back into their beds. How I crept back to my own warm and cozy spot, trying not to wake my husband (who gets up at 5:00 for work) only to lay there for what seems like hours. Wide. Awake. I lay in bed, thinking of my beautiful children. Thinking of my husband that I adore, that I am so very thankful for. I think about money, and bills, and what to make for dinner tomorrow tonight. And after laying perfectly still for what feels like days, I start saying Hail Mary's and beg for sleep to come. I doze off, only to hear the creak of my door and see the hallway light spill into my room, with a little silhouette in the doorway. "Mommy, I had an accident." And then the cycle begins again.

Sometimes these tired eyes tell a different story. They tell the story of a Mama bear who loves her babies so fiercely that mere life changes evolve into stress. Stress that creeps across my face and settles under my eyes. I hear people say constantly "time slow down!" I say it sometimes too, because the days are long, but the years are short. And I feel like I was pregnant with Maggie just yesterday. But today? Today my sweet girl turns seven. SEVEN. And with that comes so many emotions. Excitement, happiness, and fear. So much fear. Field trips and new friends and slumber parties. And all I want to do is protect her. So many stories of sick sick people in this world, and its all I can do to keep myself from crying when I read the horrors that so many children have had happen to them. I want to protect my girls from pain, from hurt, from dangerous situations that could change their life forever. I think about what I would do if something happened to them... And I think I might literally turn into a grizzly bear. But the line. You have to draw a line. You have to cut the apron strings, even if its just a little. You have to teach them to be smart and strong and not to be afraid to fight, and then you have to let them go and use what they've learned. Sometimes these tired eyes tell the story of a mama who is scared to death.



Then there are times when Mama bear needs a moment. There are times when the kids wake up when daddy leaves for work at 5:00 AND DON'T GO BACK TO SLEEP. Yes, those days, when everyone is up far too early and when two out of the four of us at home are NOT MORNING PEOPLE Maggie and Mommy, ahem, and there isn't enough coffee or concealer in the world to mask my exhaustion. When I'm three cups in at 8:00 and I'm like a sloth on the couch and I look over at three little nuggets snuggling under a blanket I realize just how little they are. And then I feel guilty for being the biggest jerk-mom ever. But, sleep. I needs it so bad. I peel my tired bones and tired eyes and tired head off the couch and I clean messes and do laundry and kiss bo-bos and sweep eight million times a day. I wonder WHO IN THE HELL forgot to flush the damn toilet again. I referee games and fights and Barbie dolls. I hold hands and buckle car seats, and no don't touch ANYTHING. I walk through grocery stores with a small circus, and NO I SAID DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING. And am I the only mom who literally thinks every time I go to put a child in the grocery cart "DEAR GOD PLEASE DON'T LET THIS BE THE CART THAT HAS SOME AWFUL ILLNESS LIVING ON IT." Because Lord knows, if its on this cart, one of my children will lick that spot out of shear randomness. I wipe it down with an antibacterial wipe and hope for the best. I load children and groceries and contemplate dinner, which I likely thought of at 2 am when I was awake with someone. I bathe children and dress children and feed children. And then, I think "What on EARTH am I going to be when I'm not 'Mommy' anymore?? When they are old enough to do this on their own?" And then someone runs into the kitchen screaming and I forget how sad I almost was. Thankfully. No time for that now. Save the nostalgia for bedtime when their sweet non screaming bodies are under blankets, and you can have the whole night to feel guilty for being jerk mommy this morning, and then remember that tomorrow is a new day. To be gentle with yourself. To start over. Tired eyes are also thankful eyes sometimes.



Then there are the eyes that have been crying. Yes, you know the ones. Puffy and sad, ready to break the dam at any second, and release ALL THE TEARS. The eyes that see an article about miscarriage, or a baby that was born around the same time our last was due. Or the eyes that see a soft blue blanket at the store and wonder if maybe, just maybe the baby was a boy. How sweet that would have been. Or another girl. Another sister to add to the team. The eyes that see 3 precious little girls and a daddy who would all love another baby in the house. Eyes that a nearly a year later still can't believe the way it all ended. And eyes that are hopeful and full of promise and settle on a rosary on the nightstand and feel like having faith in God and His timing and His plan will ease the pain. Tears come easily, especially with homesickness in the back of my mind. Days where it seems like if we just lived closer to Louisiana then it would be easier, better, WARMER. But, we are here, doing everything we can to make the very best of life. Sucking all that is good and sweet and fun out of this place and this phase of our lives. Seasons of life, where things just happen and sometimes life isn't a fairy tale. And all you can think is putting one step in front of the other. And before you know it, you've healed a little. The pain is still there but its not as intense. But the dam. Well, sometimes the dam breaks and you break. And you sob. And then, after its all out, what's left are tired eyes.

These eyes aren't just tired from everyday life. They are tired from years of making plans, and daydreaming and stress and tears and laughter. Laughter from a silly daddy who tickles and plays and throws the wee devils into the air amid squeals and giggles. Laughter from the girls' hilarious re-enactment of movie scenes and someone getting licked in the face by Brody and Mollie showing up to the table for dinner dressed head-to-toe as a witch while casting spells on her spaghetti. Side splitting laughter while playing hide and go seek with the DOG around the kitchen. And sometimes tired eyes come not from children who wake up in the middle of the night or who get up early, or from a bad day or a long day. Sometimes tired eyes come from sitting up way too late on the (NEWLY FINISHED!!) back porch with my husband, clutching a glass of red wine under the glow of twinkle lights. Talking about life, love, babies, our future, our past. How we need to start working out again, but wine. And cupcakes. And quiet time together right now is better spent over a bottle of wine. And we hear ourselves say things like "its 11:30 ALREADY?!" Things that make my 19 year old self cringe, because the time I go to bed now is the time that we would leave to go out then. Life changes. Seasons change.

Tired eyes always have a story to tell. We roll with the changes, we adjust, we move on. One day these eyes will have slept all the sleep they can, with no little people to wake them. Days won't end in exhaustion because of little people making messes and fighting and needing baths and saying prayers and helping little girls get dressed. One day I'll be helping them into their wedding gowns. One day it'll just be Chris and I, saying our prayers alone at night. One day this season will be over. So for now, I'll take these tired eyes. And I'm okay with you seeing them too.