I have been walking in a bit of a crazy season. Trying to keep up to my toddler, so far he is winning. It is the early part of summer, I have the nine-year old who is already officially “bored” and all my good intentions of long fun day trips and been side tracked by the little ones teething. Poor boy is cutting molars and eye teeth, which lead to a less than agreeable demeanor. So we have been cooped up a little. Either I need to up my painkillers for the babe, or up my pain killers for me. Haha, just joshing (sort of).
I sometimes feel like the standard I have set for being a mom is so high, it is ridiculous. I have been sucked into what the world deems is a “good mom”. A perfect women, thin, organized rising at dawn to get her hair done, makeup on, not spending the day in last nights ponytail, with a hint of yesterdays makeup that didn’t quite wash off. Making a healthy breakfast that would not look like Eggo’s, and hot chocolate. Keeping her home so clean it shines, everything in its place.
My reality is so far from this it’s comical. My house these days seems to be in a constant state of chaos. I have been trying to revamp a little and have achieved a long list of incomplete projects. I clean and the toddler follows taking every put away thing back out into view. Oliver seems to have his own idea of where things go. Shoes out of the closet strewn across the floor. Toy bins dumped, cupboards that I forgot to lock in the kitchen emptied. Spaghetti noodles dumped on the floor. On the higher surfaces of the house, my hoarder type nine-year old has brought all his treasures from his room through out the day and deposited them around the house, like he is marking his territory.
It is 5:30 the baby is whiney, oh right, dinner. I have not taken anything out, in my effort to complete a project in the house I have forgotten to feed my family. Pizza it is. Another healthy meal served, I try to redeem it a little by cutting up some fruit.
When I get to the end of my day I flop into bed and try to think what I accomplished. I look at the pile of unfolded laundry at the foot of my bed, the two empty water cups on my nightstand. I try to find peace in this hour. What is the standard I have set? There has to be a better way. Instead I have an image of a hamster running like mad on a wheel, exhausted with no results, but also keenly aware. This is motherhood. I check on my babes, the eldest sleeping sideways in his bed, breathing softly, I love how their faces look timeless in these moments. I check on my baby, the picture of peace. I go to leave his room and trip over a toy. I hear him stir so I hit the floor, crawling to the end of his crib cowering. It seems quiet. I slowly, holding my breath peek over the edge and meet two big round eyes. He’s sitting up staring at me. Drat!
I pick him up and sit in his nursery chair, cuddling him. I see a pile of folded laundry I forgot to put away, an empty bottle from earlier, but in this moment, as I cuddle his warm Ollie goodness, He tucks his head into my shoulder and I pat his bum. I feel sleep returning to him and I put my head back on his chair. I pray for my kids. A prayer declaring their greatness as men, the destinies that God holds for them. Lives of strength and health. I ask God to fill in where I fall short. I am a good mother.