I spent every moment of my free time today packing. But if you were to walk into my house right now, it would look like I had done nothing all day. I worked on packing up our cupboard contents today; pantry items, pots and pans, tupperware, plates and glasses. All stuff that can't be seen. And the rest of the house looks like you might imagine a house would look if there were two young boys running around, a baby exploring every nook and cranny, and a mom frantically trying to pack while still taking care of everyone. In short, my house is a disaster and it is hard to look around and feel like I didn't accomplish anything because of the way it looks.
But that is sort of what most days are like for me. The most tangible things I do in my day need to be done over and over, like dishes, so that I never quite feel like I accomplish anything. I sweep the floor after breakfast knowing that in a few hours we will eat lunch and it will look like I didn't sweep it in the first place. I finish folding laundry only to have the boys run into the house covered in dirt. That's just the way it is.
It's an adjustment. I've entered into a world of service and placing others first whether I want to or not. It is a continual lesson in dying to self, one that I don't often get right. But, as with most things in my life right now, all I can do is keep trying and remain confident in the fact that God can cover me in the areas where I fail.
Yesterday, I told Jem that it was time to head up for naptime and he responded in a different way from usual. He started off with his typical "But Mommy..." and then, amazingly, he corrected himself and said, "Yes Mommy." He corrected himself! It was like a little tiny miracle. I have been working and working with the boys on how they should respond when I ask or tell them to do something. I normally hear excuses and sometimes I get flat out refusals. There are even times when I am ignored completely. Each time, I remind them that the correct response is to say, "Yes Mommy." It sounds a little formal but my friend suggested it. It helps me to know that they heard me and it helps them to learn that they need to respect me and that they need to listen and obey. But it has felt like an uphill battle; a lesson that they will never get. And then my boy corrected himself and he was so proud too. It was just a wonderful little gift. A reminder that it takes time to develop a new habit and my kids can only benefit if I continue to expect good things of them.
It was bound to happen. Outside of my brief, and unsuccessful, stint on the Special K diet, I haven't done anything to get back into shape. I gained over 50 pounds during my pregnancy and carried an 11.1 pound baby that the doctors cut out of me. And much to my dismay, the weight has mostly dropped off but the belly hasn't. So I can't say that I was surprised the other day when a lovely shop owner said, "Is that a baby bump I see?" I told her no and laughed it off, hoping to make her feel a little less awful for insinuating that a non-pregnant lady could pass for a pregnant one. And honestly, I didn't feel completely depressed. Now before you start thinking that I have matured and come to accept myself flaws and all, I have to say that I think I'm just tired and stressed and that, for the time being, I've given up. With the week that I had, being called out for looking pregnant was just par for the course. And right now, I don't have time to worry about my appearance. I do have plans to start running again when we move to our new neighborhood. I have plans to stop eating so much ice cream. I have plans to never buy a pair of mom jeans. But I also had plans to only gain 25 pounds with my last pregnancy and plans to lose a few pounds on my aforementioned diet. So best laid plans...and all that stuff.
Last week was not a good week. It was one of those weeks when I just seemed to continually run up against all of the worst parts of myself. And by the end of it, I was ready to go into hibernation and swear off human contact for the next three months.
Maybe it is the stress of moving. There are only five days left until we move to our new house. That means I have five days to pack up the old house. It sounds like a decent amount of time until I figure out that I can really only pack during the hours that all of my kids are sleeping and I'm awake. That takes it from five days down to 15 hours. And I still have to make dinner, do laundry, return phone calls and emails, and all of the normal stuff I do in those free hours every day. So I'm feeling the pressure and it isn't pretty. I've had numerous moments of having to go back to someone and apologize for being ungrateful, harsh, snappish, etc. I've thrown massive pity parties for myself and spent way too much time focusing on myself. It has been sad.
And the stress won't magically end in five days. Because once we get to the new house, I have to unpack everything. Throw in the fact that I won't have any kitchen cupboards or counter tops and it goes to a whole new level. I have no choice but to put my head down and push through.
The only redemptive part of this is that I haven't gone through it with my eyes closed. I've been very aware of my faults and how they are surfacing. It has made for a tough week, a week that I'm coming out of feeling as though I could do nothing right and every day was a failure in some way. But if I can recognize those times that I'm sliding into self-pity or ingratitude, the times that I'm inflexible and unsympathetic, then maybe I can begin to work on them. If I notice them, then I have the chance of possibly being better. So here's to hoping that these five days bring me plenty of opportunities to change the way that I react under stress. I'm hoping that these five days can be days of grace for myself and the people I encounter.
Tonight I had four hours during which I wasn't Mommy. I had dinner with some wonderful ladies. We laughed and shared stories. We ate some great Thai food and caught everyone up on what has been going on in our lives. I didn't have to cut anyone's food or wipe anyone's hands. No one cried or threw food on the floor. It wasn't a big deal that dinner took twenty minutes to arrive at our table.
After dinner, I met up with two girlfriends at an ice cream shop. We sat outside and enjoyed the gorgeous moon and the warm evening. We chatted and relaxed. I didn't have to worry about anyone's bedtime but my own. I didn't have to try and keep an eye on little ones to make sure that they weren't wandering off. I could sit back and enjoy my time knowing that Sam had everything under control at home.
I will always be a mom and I'm so grateful for that. But I'm also grateful for these small times when I can take a short break from being Mommy. I can remember that there is more to me than making sandwiches, changing diapers, reading stories and refereeing disputes. And I can enter back into my role of Mommy tomorrow morning feeling refreshed, which is always good for everyone.
So...I was feeling a little bit adventurous today and decided to do a song parody. You'll have to sing it to yourself because I'm certainly not going to post a video of myself singing. I'm proud of myself for simply posting pictures. Enjoy!
Reasons I'm Losing My Mind (to the tune of My Favorite Things~you know, the "raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens" song)
Toys thrown in anger
and books ripped to pieces
No manners to speak of
No thank you's or pleases
Mean, hurtful words and being unkind
These are the reasons I'm losing my mind.
Whining and moaning
and making poor choices,
Running and screaming
without indoor voices,
No possible way to keep them confined,
These are the reasons I'm losing my mind
When they're all content
When they all have dined
When I'm alone at last
I simply enjoy it as much as I can,
Because naptime goes so fast.
I had a good day with the boys today. No, you don't need to reread that last sentence and check for a typo. I don't often write about the good days because they don't usually provide good fodder for blogging. Especially since the point of my blog is to share my struggles on this journey. But I figured it might be good to acknowledge the good days every once in a while.
It wasn't a perfect day. There were still some time-outs. I had to repeat instructions. There were reminders about having bad attitudes and whining. So yeah, not perfect. But it was a good day.
And maybe that is the issue. Maybe I'm so busy looking for a perfect day, where my kids get along and obey me and no one gets into anything they shouldn't and we have fun together, that I miss the good days. If I set my expectations on having a perfect day or even a super great day, then the first thing that doesn't go the right way means the day is a failure. Perfect days don't exist. But good days are plentiful and maybe I'll have a better chance at spotting them if I give up on perfection.
photo by: ddot.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/mouthingthewords/577460704/
