Seasons

Sometimes I feel like I am dying a long slow drawn out death. When both children are crying , demanding, whining and I am longing to paint or create, I sometimes think I can't do one more day. I've always seem myself with lots of children, but daily I consider whether I am up for even one more. I find myself doing a lot of reflecting lately. I look at pictures or relive memories and moments all throughout the day. If I am not somehow reliving the joyous wondrous exciting spring of my life, I seem to be dreaming in earnest about the autumn, the empty nest stage where I have done my best with my children , we have enough money and I am more free to create as I wish. These thoughts of course cause me considerable concern. Everyone says the days of motherhood are long but the years are short. They say to savor them because before you blink they are gone. As I hold my babies in those precious moments when they look up at me and my heart is still and we are one, I feel the greatest joy I have ever known and I know when I don't have a baby to snuggle I will long for it, miss it, say to others"enjoy every moment for it passes so quickly." Every time I feel shackled down I think of my ancestors who crossed the plains, who had so very little, who fought pests and Indians and scarcity and heat and drought and died in the cold and I feel weary knowing that my pot of frequently counted blessings is overflowing, and I feel ashamed for even thinking of complaining. I often think of the pioneer woman I heard about who longed so desperately for a bit of grass that her husband surprised her wiht a 12" x 12" square which she treasured and cared for lovingly. My husband brought me home 4 dozen flowers yesterday for no apparent reason, maybe to lift my spirits, to show his love, to brighten our home, to be a gentlemen, and maybe because he senses that these days I feel I am constantly running forward to avoid the storm cloud brewing above me threatening to open if I look up or stop moving. Projects and planning and events keep me going. Holidays which usually don't mean anything (st. patricks day) are now milestones and events, important because they mark the crossing off of a day in this stretch which is supposed to be the summer of life where all is in blossom and full of joy and sunshine, but seems to feel like the never ending winter. If this feels like winter, then I look forward with dread to what is the winter, or winding down of life. Will it be bright and joyous as I always imagined it?
My mom sent Eirik a book for his birthday. ("A Tale of Two Brothers" by Eveline Hasler, Ill Kathi Bhend) It is a story of two brothers who both have hunchbacks. One goes on a trip through the woods where he joyously loved all around him and shared his happiness with the world. In the night as he slept, the woods removed his hunchback. When he came home his brother decided to try the same journey, but since he was a bitter, crusty old man, his anger and malice wore off on the world which then cursed him with a greater hunchback. In the end it was all about how they saw the journey, not where they went. Pretty profound. Last night I read the scripture in 3rd Nephi that says:
22 The ^alight of the body is the ^beye; if, therefore, thine eye be ^csingle, thy whole body shall be full of light.

23 But if thine eye be evil, thy whole body shall be full of darkness. If, therefore, the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness!
It's all about how we see our surroundings and if we treat all as we would be treated.
Oh the concept is marvelous isn't it?
Still, I want to lock my children in their rooms, and I love them fiercely, but even more when they sleep. Can I somehow skip the summer and go straight to the autumn and not miss the flowers?