The truth comes out.
My life isn't perfect. My home isn't cookie cutter. My kids aren't angels. I don't spring out of bed every morning with a huge smile on my face, and throw on my apron and become super mom.
"Gaaaasp! No, Jenny! It isn't true! It's not possible! Every day is sunshine and roses in the McQueen house, and you saying anything otherwise is a complete lie!"
Sorry, folks it's true.
This summer has been incredibly difficult for me trying to navigate the world of multiple children with multiple moods, needs, tempers, and opinions, home... all day... every day. It has been taxing, wearing, exhausting, infuriating, irritating, and I have spent a chunk of nearly each and every day repeating to myself, "Don't kill the children. Don't kill the children."
I think that is the great lie that we women, especially those of us (lucky?) enough to call themselves Stay at Home Moms tell each other. Just how super sparkly-rainbow-warm and fuzzy-happy go lucky- full of giggles and sprinkles-awesome it is to be around them each and every day, all day long, being the referee through fights, the personal chef, the jungle gym, the cruise director, the party clown, manager, boss, and drill sergeant. Sometimes it just flat out sucks. Sometimes I have to just go in my room and shut the door to breath deeply in the quiet for the fleeting moment before one of them finds me and starts knocking.
The hardest part for me is the fighting. They are in such an awkward age spread and time right now. Smaller Child is old enough to express his frustrations (mostly by screaming bloody murder) but not old enough to vocalize WHY he's frustrated or what it is about what Bubba's doing that is bothering him so much. And Larger Child is old enough to play (mostly) responsibly with Brother, but not quite old enough to give up the selfishness that is required of playing with a toddler. Add to that his hereditary desire to run the show, and SC's hereditary desire to NEVER want to do what he's told, and you've got 10+ hours a day of a cycle of "play-laugh-scream-cry-play-laugh-scream-cry" repeat.
(And Mommy's eyes begin to twitch, hands begin to ball up, and head begins to pound about hour 4, leaving me 6+ hours of desperation and edge clinging that is getting me nothing but very strong finger muscles.)
After dinner, there is a mad sprint to the kids bedtime. Then there are a precious 2-3 hours of quiet, peace, and recharge before I completely collapse to sleep, and wake in the morning to start it all over again.
This summer has been tough. I have been desperate. I have been praying EVERY morning for God to help me. To guide me. To help me be the mother these kids deserve for me to be. To remove from me my impatience, irritability, and intolerance, for Him to help me be more attentive, loving, compassionate... Yet, every morning, I walk away from my prayers, and within a few hours I am no better than I was the day before.
Something happened this morning though, something changed in my prayers. Instead of asking God to change me, or change the situation, I prayed to ask God to help me to remain in gratitude, to remember that I really am lucky to be so situated to be home with them. That when I really boil it down, I honestly (even with all the chaos) wouldn't want to miss this for the world. Instead of counting down the days until school started (27), I wanted to be grateful and savor the moments I have. I will never get another summer with a 7 and 2 year old again. This is it. The only shot I get at them, as they are right now. So, that was my prayer this morning. Prayer for Gratitude. Prayer of Gratitude. Then I went on about my day.
Within a few hours, I again was no better than I was before... then...
I made a passing complaint to LC about how I needed to go pay bills and balance the checkbook. He turned to me, and said very casually, "Mom, don't you think that you should be grateful instead?" (I nearly accused him of reading my morning prayer journal, before I remembered he can't read my cursive.) I smiled, turned back to him and said, "You know what, you are absolutely right. Thank you for the reminder" knowing FULL WELL that I was saying that thank you to the One I had prayed for that reminder to this morning. I left that conversation with tears in my eyes, chill bumps on my arms, and warmth in my heart. I think it is safe to let go of the edge now. I think it's safe to relax my fingers. Maybe spend more time folding them together in prayers of thanks... I have a lot to be grateful for.
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