Joyful Exhaustion

I sit writing by the light of the tree “the morning after.”  Gifts unwrapped, new toys scattered all over my living room, the lingering smell of barbecued brisket in the air, my belly still too full from dinner the night before… and still totally exhausted. 

A few weeks ago, I had the privilege to visit with a sweet friend who is expecting their first little miracle this coming spring.  She mentioned that she is a little nervous because everyone keeps telling her how she better sleep now, because once the baby arrives she will be exhausted for the rest of her life.  I told her that in my opinion, yes, parenting is exhausting, BUT it is like the kind of exhaustion you feel on Christmas night- your body is totally wiped out from all the excitement, preparation, and running around, but your heart is FULL.  And I can say, after another Christmas Day, I still feel the same way.  I would also add in the exhaustion of the unmet expectations as well. 

I was so excited yesterday morning that I could hardly stand it.  Santa had arrived and left some things I couldn’t wait for (a) to discover.  I was thankful that Santa had a helper who was willing to share some “pre-loved” toys, and because of that there were a couple big items waiting that I just knew he was going to LOVE and go crazy for.  I was tired from staying up late on Christmas Eve preparing, but I was excited and got up early in anticipation of what the day was going to bring.  However, when (a) started to stir and I ran to get him up, I discovered it was one of those mornings where he had wet the bed and we were going to have to start the day with a bath.  A grumpy bath none the less.  After the grumpy bath (A) put him in his Christmas jammies as I asked (ok, begged) so he would look super cute for pictures.  I thought we would start over fresh, got out the video camera and asked if he would like to come to the living room to see what Santa brought, to which he told me “NO!!”  Ouch… momma crushed.  He grumped around for nearly half an hour before he was willing to leave his room and come to see what was under the tree.  Thankfully when he arrived he was just as excited as I had hoped when he found his gifts.  We played for a couple hours and I decided it was time to run through the shower to get ready before some family arrived for more festivities.  As I got ready to jump in the shower I discovered my husband never even found or recognized a small, but romantic and thoughtful gift I had put together for him… again, a little crushed.  I got out of the shower only to realize I had no clean clothes that I felt suited the day AND (a) was yelling at (A) from his bedroom… never a good sign.  He had one of those (thankfully rare) explosive diapers… in his Christmas jammies… and I hadn’t even gotten any pictures yet.  Momma crushed a little more.  I was also a little panicked because the morning delay had me a little behind on the timeline of my food preparation.  By the time my parents arrived, I was still in my bathrobe (because I had started my laundry) crying because I felt like none of the day was living up to these high idealistic expectations I had of what Christmas Day with a toddler was going to be like. My mom gently reminded me of a “historic moment” in my childhood which was caught on camera where I did not live up to the excitement expectations, and she told me she had been there, it would get better. 

And she was right.  After two loads of laundry and a good solid nap for (a), I was dressed in something I wanted to wear, he was dressed in something I deemed fun for pictures, all the guests had arrived, his nap had allowed me time for food prep, mom’s help sped along the process, and we were able to enjoy the day I had “planned.” 

When the evening ended and everyone left, I collapsed on the couch and my guys took to the recliner.  I was exhausted physically, but my heart was filled with joy.  We’d had a day filled with love, and laughter, and family. I’d eaten far more food that I should have, I’d watched my son cackle with joy, ohh and ahh in discovery, love on the people who are part of “his village,” try to pull some typical ornery stunts, and most importantly tell us that he knows who Baby Jesus is and that he was born “in barn, with cows!” (“With cows” is an important detail to my little cow-man-in-training haha, he always makes sure to add that part.) 

It’s true.  Parenting is like reliving Christmas every day.  Joyful exhaustion, a body tired, but a heart full, a twinge of heartache over the unmet expectations, but the reality that it is all going to be alright. 

I sincerely hope your family had a blessed Christmas!  And now we get to do it over again 2 more times with out-of-state siblings… maybe I still will manage to sneak in the “Christmas Day family photo of the three of us” that slipped through the grasp of my expectations… 😉