I didn't know, for example, how little sleep I would actually get, and that for a time, at least, I would have only two goals in life: 1) to take care of this child and 2) to find a way to get more than twenty minutes of sleep at time. Unfortunately, these goals are often mutually exclusive. No one told me that. I also didn't know that my failure to meet goal #2 would, at times, turn me into a crazy, sobbing, irrational mess. I didn't know how many times a newborn could actually poop, and I definitely didn't know that poop can be a projectile. I didn't know there were so many different colors of poop, and that this would be something I would need to know. I had no idea that it was possible that so much of my time could be consumed by dealing with, thinking about, and keeping track of poop.
I didn't know that a baby could cry for so much of the day, or sleep for so little of the night. I didn't know that a toddler could say "No" twenty-seven times in one hour, or that a five-year-old could literally make me question which of us was smarter (I no longer question that. Now I know). I didn't know that any of these things alone would be enough to cause me to feel my sanity slipping away, and that, all together, they could cause me to come very close to going over the edge.
I didn't know that it was possible to literally not be able to hear myself think, and that the sound of three kids screaming in unison would cause me to wonder if I really had just lost my hearing in one ear. I didn't know how much I would sometimes crave a few minutes of silence, and just how hard that would be to find.
I had no idea that, when people said, "Things will never be the same," they were referring to my butt, my thighs, and my va-, um, various other body parts. I didn't know that stretch marks could be so fascinating to a two-year-old. Forget the toys! Come look at these things on mom's stomach!
I didn't know that a three-year-old, a dog, and a bag of confetti could be such a bad combination. I had no idea that so many hours a day could be spent cleaning up after three kids (and, sometimes, their father). I didn't know just how quickly these same three kids could trash the house that I just spent hours cleaning, and I definitely didn't know that I'd eventually decide just to leave it, and clean it all up when they turn eighteen.
I didn't know that two boys and a jar of peanut butter could do so much damage (but I should have). I didn't know that, after three kids, I'd still be dumb enough to leave two boys alone with a jar of peanut butter. I didn't know they could also reach the jelly.
I didn't know that I would spend so much time breaking up fights, or telling everyone to be nice, or sending people to their rooms. I really didn't know that, when my youngest child was approaching age two, some days I would still be this tired. And I had no idea that I could worry so much.
I don't know why I didn't know some of these things. Did people not tell me? Was I not listening? Did they figure I would find out on my own, just like they did? I'm not sure why I didn't know. But I'm glad I didn't. If I'd known, I might have missed out on all the other things I didn't know.
I didn't know that I could laugh so much, or love so much, or cry so much. I didn't know that a first step, or a first word, or a first report card could be the most exciting thing in my life. Ever. No one told me that a pre-school Christmas pageant, or a ballet recital, or a chorus concert, could also turn me into a sobbing mess. I didn't know that "I love you mommy" could be the most amazing thing I'd ever hear, and I had no idea that the sound of my children laughing would make me laugh so hard myself.
I didn't know that watching them play together would more than make up for all the fighting, or that hearing a brother tell his sister "Of course I love you. You're my sister," would make me want to cry. No one told me that a sister reading a book to her brothers would be a sound I'd want to hold onto forever, even if I can only hear it in one ear.
I didn't know how happy I'd be when they finally took a nap, but I also didn't know that I'd miss them when they were asleep. I didn't know that watching a sleeping child could be such a perfect ending to an incredibly crazy day, and no one told me that it would make me think, "Well of course there's a God." I didn't know that seeing them--and even hearing them--first thing in the morning could do the same thing.
I didn't know how they would turn my world upside down, and I think I know why no one told me. Some things are just hard to explain. Some things are indescribable. And some things you just have to see for yourself.
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