Does it get easier?

Back when I was a younger mom with only two kids who were both still in diapers, I would look at older moms (women in their late twenties) who had bigger kids (kids who actually went to kindergarten!), and I'd ask, "Does it get easier?"  Now that I'm an older mom with all my kids in school, I am often asked the same question. "Does it get easier?" 

When we are deep in the trenches of dirty diapers and chronic sleep deprivation, we all want to know, Is there a light at the end of the tunnel?  Is there hope for relief soon? Will it get any easier?

Having made it through the baby years, and seen the other side, I have learned for myself the answer.

Yes, but No.


The baby years are hard.  Really, really hard.  It is exhausting!  Completely, utterly, physically exhausting.  You are in the first few weeks of intensive marathon training. You've never done anything like this before, and your body is rebelling.  You want sleep.  You want quiet.  You want five minutes alone to take a shower.  But you aren't going to get it.  You must keep going long after you are sure you should be dead.  No matter how tired you are, there will still be somebody who wakes up crying and needs your help.  No matter how many poopy diapers you change, there is always another one right around the corner.  Life is hard.  Physically hard.  And the long-term lack of sleep makes all mental and emotional tasks exponentially more difficult (and sometimes impossible).

My husband started coaching football two weeks before our third child was born.  That first year of coaching we had a three year old, an 18 month old, and a newborn.  My husband was very enthusiastic about his team, and wanted us to come out and watch his games.  So being a good and supportive wife, we went.  Every fall, every Friday night for three long months, we went.

I would feed the kids.
Change the baby and the toddler.
Dress the kids. 
Find hats and gloves for the kids.
Pack snacks for the kids.
Pack a bottle for the baby.
Buckle each child into their car seats.
Take the baby back out of the car seat.
Change the baby again.
Buckle baby back up.
Drive to the game.
Unbuckle all three from their car seats.
Put baby in front pack carrier.

Put diaper bag on shoulder.
Hold hands with other two kids.
Try not to let diaper bag fall off and whack toddler in the head.
Walk the seemingly endless miles from the parking lot down to the football field. 
Get to the stands.
Sit the kids down.
Unpack snacks.
Discover that I forgot drink for three year old. 
Convince toddler to share Sippee.
Convince three year old that it's okay to drink from a Sippee.
Take lid off Sippee and pretend it's just a cup. 
Three year old finally gives in, drinks from Sippee, and then hands it back to toddler who spills it all over herself. 
Load snacks back into bag.
Take all three kids on long walk back up to the parking lot.

Dig through clothes to find something dry for toddler to put on.
Walk back down to football field. 
Sit down.
Unload snacks again.
Enjoy a few minutes of the game.
Baby cries.
Unload baby from front pack carrier, and begin nursing her.
Three year old announces she has to go potty.
Quit feeding baby.
Load snacks back into diaper bag.
Walk endless miles to the bathroom with all three kids.
Help three year old go potty, and get redressed, and washed, and dried.
Wait while three year old checks out her hair in the mirror.
Change baby's diaper just in case.
Pull toddler out of the stall where she's been unrolling yards and yards of toilet paper.
Head back to the stands.
It's half time.
Husband comes over to see how we are enjoying the game.
I smile and pretend I have a clue about what's  going on down on the field.
My little girls babble on about how beautiful the cheerleaders are.
The game starts up again.
I feed the baby.
My little girls dance along with the cheerleaders to the sound of the pep band.
We survive.

When you are a young mom, your job is actually very simple.  Keep everyone alive. That's it!  It's like running a marathon.  You just run, and run, and run until you are done.  It is really simple.  But don't confuse simple with easy.  It's not easy.  It's not even close to easy.  It is really, really, super, duper hard!  But it is simple.

So does it get easier?  YES!  It really does!  That first time you put your kids into the car and they all buckle themselves up is amazing!  What a feeling of freedom!  My heart hurts just thinking about how wonderful it is to not have to buckle, buckle, buckle, drive, unbuckle, unbuckle, unbuckle... for every single little trip we take.  When kids can put on their own shoes, walk to the car, and buckle themselves... WOW!  It just doesn't get any better than that!  So it does get easier.

Unfortunately it also get mores complicated.  You go from running marathons, to playing chess.  You are always looking ten moves ahead trying to outsmart your opponents (aka: kids).  Instead of having kids who rely on you for everything and are at your side every moment of the day, you now have kids with their own lives.  They need to do homework, go places, do things.  Suddenly staying home alone with three babies seems like a cake walk compared to taking two kids to school and having to drag a toddler along to assemblies, parent-teacher conferences, and soccer practice!  As you sit through a painfully long band concert, you may find yourself wishing you could just be sitting at home changing diapers again.  The logistics of getting everyone to their different classes and practices on time will have your brain stretched beyond it's natural limitations. 

This year my oldest is a freshman in high school and is on the color guard team.  They perform at all the home football games.  It's been a lot of years since we were regular attendees of high school football, but I'd done it before with babies, so I figured now that my kids are older how hard could it be?  Right?  Wrong.  It is easier, but it is also a trade off.

Twelve year old feeds the kids. +
Kids dress themselves! +
I tell the kids to get hats and gloves.
Kids argue that they don't need hats and gloves. -
Eleven year old packs snacks and drinks for the kids. +
I tell the kids to go to the car.
They get into the car by themselves! +++
They fight over who sits where. -
I threaten to leave them home.
They say they don't care, they didn't want to go anyway. -
Drive to the game.
Kids unbuckle themselves and get out! +++
Big kids hold hands with little kids. +
Walk the seemingly endless miles from the parking lot down to the football field. 
Get to the stands.
Sit the kids down.
Unpack snacks.
Kids complain that they don't want our snacks from home, they want concession snacks! -
Eleven year old uses own money to go buy a drink. +
Little kids cry. - -
Convince eleven year old to share drink.
Convince little kids that they don't need their very own drink.
Convince eleven year old that she should share even when little kids are bratty and ungrateful. 
Watch some football. +
Eleven year old sees friend, and goes off to hang out.
Seven year old decides he needs to go potty, and leaves without telling anyone. -
Panic ensues.
Twelve year old stays with five year old while I go in search of seven year old. +
Seven year old is found and scolded.
Twelve year old wines about being left to babysit five year old while eleven year old is off playing with friends. -
Five year old announces he has to go potty now.
Give twelve year old option of staying with seven year old or going with five year old.
Twelve year old grumbles on the way to the bathroom with five year old. +/-
Twelve year old returns with happy five year old and a bag of cotton candy. +
Kids happily share coveted concession food. +
Kids get cold.
I search for the hats and gloves they should have brought.
No one has brought anything they were supposed to bring. -
Twelve year old watches little kids while I walk the endless miles back to the car in search of warmer clothes. +
Amid the mess that is our van, I find five extra jackets, two blankets, and a hat.
I return to the stands where twelve year old is again complaining about being left to babysit while eleven year old is off having fun. -
It's half time.
I watch as best as I can amidst the squabbling that has started over who ate all the snacks from home.
Fourteen year old comes over to see how we are enjoying the half time show.
I smile and do my best to remember the half time show and give positive yet honest feedback about her performance.
My little boys babble on about how cool the color guard, dance team, and cheerleaders are.
The game starts up again.
The eleven year old returns.
My little boys dance along with the cheerleaders to the sound of the pep band.
We survive.


It's not easy, but it is easier!  Hang in there new moms!


Marcia