Are you out there, kids? It's me, Debbie.

I've been doing a lot of complaining lately.


I complain about the kids' school.
I complain about how lonely I am, because my best friend moved away.
I complain about my house, and the millions of updates it needs.
I complain about this town- which admittedly has a few really wonderful people in it- but often I find it to be pretentious as fuck.
I complain about the kids' summer vacation being too long.
I complain about the dumb activities I've scheduled to fill it up.
I complain about people and situations in my life that I can't really avoid.
I complain about losing things, and the kids being messy and lazy and whiny.

When did I become such a Debbie Downer? I believe I previously blogged about my contempt for young enthusiastic mothers who follow their kids around, helicoptering, wiping their noses and telling them for the tenth time that minute "what the dog says". But the truth is, I couldn't be like that even if I tried. Not anymore. Sometimes it feels like I've lost all enthusiasm for parenting, and that's a very sad thought.

I've noticed that parenting in general has changed a lot since 2007. I've noticed a couple of new trends within the playgroup set- who are now all around my age and a little younger. The first one is the presence of baby boomer grandparents. They're everywhere, and they're super involved in their grandchildrens' lives. Heck, many of them meet up with other grandparent pals at the library or music class. Perhaps shaking a tambourine to Tingalayo brings back fond memories of  Woodstock- who knows? Once I was at Toddler Time, and I noticed the number of kids with grandparents and nannies outnumbered the kids who were there with moms and dads. So clearly, the new parents of my generation aren't leaving their jobs to stay home in raise children. This probably has a lot to do with the economy, but also to how our working liberated feminist mothers raised us as well. Becoming a stay at home mom was never on my list of life plans either, until I fell into this gig after Fiona was born. This was mostly because we couldn't afford day care, and my entry level job in an inpatient children's psychiatric unit sucked anyway. Did I mention I like avoiding stuff?

The other thing I've noticed is the pervasive presence of technology in parenting. So many moms and dads these days have vlogs and youtube channels. What's up with that? My kids like to watch this family vlog called the Murrays, a wholesome tattooed millennial couple and their four kids who make song parodies and are on fire for Christ. And since I still don't really understand how to use YouTube (and the internet in general), those harmless wholesome singalongs soon turn into graphic videos of young mothers having babies if I leave the queue running long enough. WTF! It would never occur to me to record something like this- let alone put it on the internet. Some things are better left to the imagination! But are these people really narcissistic, or is this just a normal thing for Millennials? For kids who grew up with AOL and My Space and The Real World, putting your most intimate moments on the internet is NBD, obvs.

I was at Music Together recently, and this millennial mom who looked like she was 15 just couldn't put her phone down during class. Between choruses of Robin Red Breast, she'd pull out her iPhone, snap pictures, take videos AND upload them to social media by the end of the song. "That's efficiency!" I thought to myself. But even though those pics probably got more than a handful of Likes, I don't think she's going to remember anything about going to that class with her kids. I mean, isn't that why we pay $30/ class for Music Together, so we are FORCED to put our phones down for 45 minutes and sing and bond with our kids? (oh, maybe that's just me...)

But I'm totally guilty of doing this too. We live so much of our lives for the outside world, and for other people, we lose touch with the things that are actually important to us. What kind of interactions would we have with our kids if no one else was watching? I am totally and completely incapable of being home with my four kids without going crazy. I used to do crafts and make pancakes and build with blocks and legos, but I just cant do it anymore. Too much noise, too much arguing and crying. Nobody listens, and my tolerance level is lower than ever. I won't even let my kids touch things like paint and glue because it winds up on the furniture and walls. When I see legos I throw them out before they become lodged in my foot.

and then I start to wonder- is this just a symptom of having been a parent for nine years, or is there something wrong with me? Should I waltz into Library Time with Teddy, chat up the other moms and read Goodnight Moon with the same amount of gusto as I did when Fiona was a baby? Should I spend an hour making homemade playdoh with him, without thinking about how I'm going to be scrubbing it out of the carpet an hour later? Should I get him the color and shape flashcards I make fun of so mercilessly and review them in public, inviting eye rolls from people like me? I. just. can't. do. it. I've BTDT, as someone in my generation would say. But it's not fair to Teddy, or to Brendan, or even to Lily. I've been divided four ways for a while now, and my main focus really is just keeping them alive, fed, bathed (most of the time) and quiet. QUIET. And i'm on my phone all the damn time. I feel the need to "escape" all the damn time.

I've spent so much time complaining about my problems to realize that I don't actually have any that aren't incredibly first world and frivolous. I have four happy healthy kids and a husband who loves me. Shouldn't that be enough? Why aren't they enough? When did I fall down this rabbit hole of wanting "things" to be "better" or "different" that I couldn't open my eyes and see what I have in front of me. Here's what I have: Four kids who are about to grow up. And when they do, I sure as hell hope I can look back at these days through a rose colored, positive lens. What kind of mother have I been? What will be my kids happiest memories of me?

This year was hard, but this time is short. My baby is a big eighteen month old boy today. He says WORDS....kind of. He keeps up with his siblings. I give him freedom to roam around, and he does not cling to me. I have real bras without nursing flaps, and I can usually find five minutes to get dressed and slap on some makeup before leaving the house sans diaper bag these days. So much is changing, and it changes so fast. "The days are long but the years are short" is the most tired, obnoxious cliche in the whole world, but it's truth speaks volumes to me right now. I KNOW I will regret it if I just stay distracted, wishing these days away. Wishing I had my best friend, or wishing I lived in a less stuck-up town, or a nicer house with more bathrooms and a new granite kitchen with recessed lighting.

So here's to today. And to tomorrow. To putting a smile on my face and trying to enjoy the little things, even if I've had a shitty day, or week, or month. Here's to opening my eyes and really noticing the beautiful people and things in my life. It is indeed a beautiful life, and I am a lucky lady.

xo