When the Day Starts Wrong, and gets worse…

I don’t remember when it started.  But after a brief season of trying to get up BEFORE my kids to have some quiet time, I decided to get up with them and try to steal quiet time anyway.  It doesn’t really work.  But I keep trying every day anyway, like a puppy that thinks “maybe thiiiis time she’ll finally pet me.”

So I feed the kids breakfast, and I hide in our spare bedroom with the door closed, armed with a Bible, notebook, or other encouraging reads.  I’m not being pious.  This isn’t about my Father blessing what is done in secret.  This is survival.

I’d like to say that I emerge from my room in a state of unshakable bliss, never rattled by tantrums, dirty diapers or whiny rebellion.  I’d like to say that I when my toddler kicks me I “turn the other leg” and say, “Bless you, child, I know I’ll miss those little feet when you’re older.”  I’d like to say that when my 5 year old refuses to get in the car that I’ve never been angry enough to pretend like I might just leave without him, even though we both know I never would.  I’d like to say that when my 6 year old has just had a two hour playdate and I finally have her sit down for school, that I don’t fly-off-the-handle and send her to her room for complaining that she’s “too tired”.

Today was one of those days I could tell just starting off with God was not going to cut it.  I was feeling a bit petty about something from the day before, which is never a good sign. I tried to journal but the boys were fort building in the guest room so I relocated my happy-spot.  Then my baby came in with a bead necklace wound around his neck that I could only get off quickly by breaking, sending tiny beads everywhere.  Oh well.  I’ll clean them up after.

Except I had to clean them up now, because then the baby stuck one up his nose. Lord knows I don’t remember where the nasal aspirator is anymore. Ah, found it. Why do they stick things in their nose? And ears? So many nooks to worry about.

I managed to finish my reading and felt like the world was my oyster…I was completely perked up.  Yay God!  Yay Life!  (I was literally singing “I Know My Redeemer Lives” thinking how wonderful it was to have moved past my pettiness so quickly.)

But apparently the baby had invaded a chip bag while I was in the bathroom, and misplaced one of my medical remotes momentarily.  Aaand the happy feelings were gone.

So we started our homeschooling day, then I stopped to load the kids in the car for a trip to the library.  You know how this goes.  My 5 year old is stubborn to begin with, and on top of that has fluid in his ear keeping him from hearing well.  Isn’t that convenient.  No I feel like I have to yell everything at him even if I’m not mad.  I’m sure the neighbors think I am.  I almost loaded them all in but my two year old diverted to the sandbox first, and by the time I buckled him in he was screaming.

So I did what any sane mother would do.  I pulled out of the driveway and blared the music to drown out the screaming, and took the long where-exactly-were-we-going-again route to the library while I cried my own cranky moment away.  My Momma’s right…sometimes you just need to cry.

The library turned out to be more 2 year old misery, since I told him he couldn’t play on the computer.  I tried to tune out his screams while I searched for homeschool books on Ancient China, and the librarian said, “Wow, he has a lot to say today.”  Ah.  Yes.  Another lady said, “We have to use our words or no one can help us.”  My son is slightly speech delayed so we don’t have many words, really.  But I’m sure he will note that advice for the future.

Finally we headed to the local school book fair, where my 2 year old continued to scream, and we were half way to the park before we realized we had inadvertently stolen the Frozen book he was perusing angrily rejecting as we walked through the fair.

Thankfully a friend met us at the park and convinced ME to let her take my 5 year old (why is it so hard to accept help sometimes?)  Then we came home and stuck my 2 year old in bed, and my daughter finished school well and is peacefully reading her book fair books as I vent to you all.  Everyone wins!

Until now because my 2 year old just woke up and I’m pretending he’s not.

And I know that not every story has to have a moral.  But I think the truth is that sometimes we have to fight for our attitudes and our days.  Sometimes we can do all the right things- seek the positive, find things to be thankful for, get out and change the scene with our  kids, etc.  And it can still be hard.  And the weight of motherhood, or a 9-5, or taking care of an aging relative, or exams and never-ending school just feels overwhelming.  It’s OK to feel overwhelmed and it’s OK to need help, even if someone else looks like they’re doing twice as much with no problem.

Sometimes all we can do is repeat to ourselves over and over:

“March on my soul; be strong!” Judges 5:21

And to remember that even when we are weak, His strength still stands.

There’s my vulnerable moment.  Feel free to share your own.  I probably don’t have the words to fix it, but know that if you’ve got a half-finished coffee and a kid with a bead up his nose, I’ve been there!