Tuesday, April 24, 2007

It's Just Not My Day

Today I have confronted just how unholy I am. I am stretched paper thin, even ripped in some places. Motherhood will do this to you. You are faced with your shortcomings on a minute by minute basis some days. It's what we do with it that counts. Today I have decided that I am weary and will just have to take up the battle again tomorrow. My brain is on "Stand By" mode until then.

It all began this morning, sometime before 5am. Miss M decided that the crack of dawn was the ideal time to begin our day. Oh, there was some talking and playing with her lovey and it was very cute. So I rolled over and assured myself that she'd nod off again at any moment. At about 5:15 I began to wonder about the crazy dream I was having: it involved me getting up and... oh, wait. That part really happened. So up we were. The poor dear was tired and ready for her first nap of the day before the rest of the family was even conscious.

We sent our Fearless Leader off to work early. It was more than a little strange to have half of our family dressed and breakfasted by 6:15. Strange, indeed. It was up to me to awaken the other half of the family, get them breakfasted and off to school. Surprisingly enough, it went fairly well. (Although I still don't understand how it is that the Wiggles have such a mesmerizing effect even on 11 year olds to the point that the children are unable to hear and see that the parental unit is headed out the door.) We prayed for each other on the way to school, and the kids were right on time.

I decided that it was time to brave the grocery store. We were out of cereal, eggs, milk, yogurt, bread and a host of other items. What did we eat for breakfast you wonder? Protein shakes and bagels. The Breakfast of Supers. We arrived at the store nice and early (always important in the desert), found a cart and got started. Again, all went fairly well. I managed to stow the bread under the carseat so Wonder Boy couldn't squeeze the life out of our future lunches. I stashed the chips under the main basket so that we could prove once and for all that chips are really made with potatoes larger than 1/4" across and are, in fact, larger than confetti. I actually found everything on my list. We made it to the check out. I began to unload the cold items first so they'd get bagged together - always thinking, I am. And then...

... It was like one of those slow-motion scenes in a movie. I turned from the conveyor belt to snatch whatever the next item was that Wonder Boy was going to be able to reach. My Mominator senses were tingling, I knew something was awry. I turned, only to find that WB had grabbed the dozen & a half eggs... and dropped them all over the remaining groceries in the cart. The word "noooooo" escaped from my mouth in that weird, slow-mo sound. It was then that I knew the day would truly be every sense of the word "long."

The day continued on in like fashion. Infractions before lunch included interesting indoor sporting events such as: Humidifier Toppling; Couch Long Jumping; Snack Dropping; Vacuum Vaulting and a host of other fun events.

I served lunch by 10:45. Nap quickly followed at 11:30. I was a bit sad when I had to spring him from Toddler Jail, I mean, bed, at 1:00. It is now 4:30. The patio is covered in rocks and aloe flowers. I think I see a solitary clean spot on that square inch between his shoulder blades. And he just grabbed his sister by the head while she plays in the exersaucer.

The grocery clerk took pity on me and sent a runner for new eggs... and she didn't charge me for the broken ones, either. I found that act of kindness to be most helpful today.

Now the crazy thing is: I really do like this life. I'm tired. I'm bruised, literally. I'm exasperated. I'm envious of friends whose children are all older. But this is the life I signed up for. These seemingly never-ending moments of dirt, temper tantrums and diapers will stop one day. And I will probably miss them.

Well, I will miss most of them. Some I won't remember. And the rest... that's what therapy is for.

And it is my hope that God can actually use me today to reach my kids. Because today I am broken. There is no way I can do this by myself. There's no steam left in my teapot. But I know deep in my heart that this is the moment God has been waiting for: for me to stop trying so hard to control my little people so that He can step in and lead us all together. I do hope, however, He has a bullhorn... or the kids will never hear Him.

So today I leave you with this:

Glory be to the Father,
and to the Son,
and to the Holy Spirit,
as it was in the beginning,
is now,
and ever shall be.

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