I was fairly certain that I would have my life figured out by the time I was 30. When in reality, at age 45, I'm still trying to figure out who I am, let alone my LIFE !
This blog is a way of discovering who I am and being okay with it. Thanks for coming along for the ride.
Friday, February 14, 2014
Every morning my husband and I do this dance. His alarm goes off at 6:30 a.m. He gets out of bed, wakes the younger three children (the older three have already left for Seminary), gets them breakfast, and makes the sandwiches for their lunches. 3 peanut butter, 1 1/2 pb & j, 1 pb & nutella, 1/2 pepperoni. He then crawls back into bed at 6:43 for 15 more minutes of sleep before showering. This is my cue to take the stage. The circus is mine for the rest of the morning.
I ride the crazy train of getting kids dressed, hair done, backpacks packed, snow clothes found, disputes settled, breakfast for the older three (who have returned), all culminating with Family Prayer at 7:35 a.m. and kids being pushed out the door for the short ride to school. Disputes will continue in the car as kids fight over whose turn it is for passenger seat and who gets to pick the music. It is a whirlwind seventy minutes. I love the peace that settles over the house in the ten minutes after they are gone. I feel like I have just given birth.
And this morning, I didn't want to get up. And I mean, I REALLY did not want to get up. I was in a mood. I was not looking forward to all that was required of me to do. I did not want to settle disputes, or find pants for #5, or do fancy hair for #3, or tell #6 her clothes did not match. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to be someone without kids. It didn't help that TBG climbed back into bed 5 minutes early (two kids buying, less sandwiches to make), pushing up my time to ride the crazy train.
I made it to the couch, looked at the weather with #6, sent her on her way and settled into what I felt would be a trying morning. No seminary meant that 6 kids were getting ready in the space the 3 younger kids usually have to themselves. I did hair from the couch instead of the bathroom. And to my surprise, I was granted a Grace from God. No one fought. #1 & #3 let each other borrow shoes without any side commentary. #3 let #4 borrow a tank top and then made an outfit suggestion that #4 actually appreciated and used. #5 packed lunch for #4 who was changing her clothes. #6 didn't complain about getting her hair done. #2 made it out of the shower and downstairs before prayer time.
It wasn't perfect. There were still discussion about who gets to sit where and don't be late to the car after school, and #3 still made everyone wait to leave while she spritzed herself and checked her outfit out in the mirror by standing on the toilet while everyone sat in the car. And I felt the Grace of God. It wasn't a huge miracle, but a gentle reminder that this work I do is important. That my children need more than just my body present on the couch (or in my bed). And that help is there for me, even when I don't remember to ask for it. And it was enough. For seventy minutes, I was enough. I felt love for my children, love for God, and God's love for me. And it was enough.
It didn't stop me from climbing back into bed the minute that garage door shut, or from playing on Pinterest, or my new favorite obsession, the game Threes, or from napping a short time. And that's okay. It got me through the morning rush and gave me a light that I didn't think I'd have today. So when I got up the second time, I was filled with love and gratitude for the opportunity I get each day to be a Mom. Even though it's not always pretty or fun. It sure is worth it.
I ride the crazy train of getting kids dressed, hair done, backpacks packed, snow clothes found, disputes settled, breakfast for the older three (who have returned), all culminating with Family Prayer at 7:35 a.m. and kids being pushed out the door for the short ride to school. Disputes will continue in the car as kids fight over whose turn it is for passenger seat and who gets to pick the music. It is a whirlwind seventy minutes. I love the peace that settles over the house in the ten minutes after they are gone. I feel like I have just given birth.
And this morning, I didn't want to get up. And I mean, I REALLY did not want to get up. I was in a mood. I was not looking forward to all that was required of me to do. I did not want to settle disputes, or find pants for #5, or do fancy hair for #3, or tell #6 her clothes did not match. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to be someone without kids. It didn't help that TBG climbed back into bed 5 minutes early (two kids buying, less sandwiches to make), pushing up my time to ride the crazy train.
I made it to the couch, looked at the weather with #6, sent her on her way and settled into what I felt would be a trying morning. No seminary meant that 6 kids were getting ready in the space the 3 younger kids usually have to themselves. I did hair from the couch instead of the bathroom. And to my surprise, I was granted a Grace from God. No one fought. #1 & #3 let each other borrow shoes without any side commentary. #3 let #4 borrow a tank top and then made an outfit suggestion that #4 actually appreciated and used. #5 packed lunch for #4 who was changing her clothes. #6 didn't complain about getting her hair done. #2 made it out of the shower and downstairs before prayer time.
It wasn't perfect. There were still discussion about who gets to sit where and don't be late to the car after school, and #3 still made everyone wait to leave while she spritzed herself and checked her outfit out in the mirror by standing on the toilet while everyone sat in the car. And I felt the Grace of God. It wasn't a huge miracle, but a gentle reminder that this work I do is important. That my children need more than just my body present on the couch (or in my bed). And that help is there for me, even when I don't remember to ask for it. And it was enough. For seventy minutes, I was enough. I felt love for my children, love for God, and God's love for me. And it was enough.
It didn't stop me from climbing back into bed the minute that garage door shut, or from playing on Pinterest, or my new favorite obsession, the game Threes, or from napping a short time. And that's okay. It got me through the morning rush and gave me a light that I didn't think I'd have today. So when I got up the second time, I was filled with love and gratitude for the opportunity I get each day to be a Mom. Even though it's not always pretty or fun. It sure is worth it.
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