Article courtesy: Chrissy Kelly, Life with Greyson & Parker
Being the mom of two little ones feels like treading water. Being the mom of two little ones with autism, feels like treading water with weights on. And cement boots. And I’m just so tired. So fricking tired. Greyson got the flu last week, knocking us both on our butt. Midnight projectile hot dog vomiting every 45 minutes is what all the cool kids do. And Michael was out of town, of course. Because he coordinates his travel plans with whatever virus of the month comes along. He’s pretty psychic that way. I couldn’t get on top of it or catch up on life, and then it hit me early Sunday morning. And I woke up at 3am in a panic. Rapidly swallowing. Terrified about the next 12 hours that would surely be spent heaving on the bathroom floor. Sweating. Freezing. Begging for mercy and my Mom. My Mother’s Day was spent in bed.
And I long for that space of time where I feel caught up. I claw my way to it. I chase it with a frenzy that I detest. I curse the pile of mail threatening to avalanche, the dusty foot prints and dog hair on the floor I already sweep daily, the unfulfilled grocery list- growing by the second.
You see, this is why I can’t be sick, I want to yell at someone- I don’t know who? while I gesture around at the chaos wildly. I am a Mom and now I am so behind on my job. I take myself so seriously in these moments. In these moments I take my Target errands and therapies and tasks and appointments like life or death stuff, folks. SERIOUSLY. But it isn’t. And I cry for reasons that feel justifiable at the time but would be so embarrassing to explain. Because they seriously don’t matter to me. So then WHY do they matter? WHY AM I FREAKING? But sometimes they do make me cry- and it’s outright war between the way I am acting and who I want to be. Who I think I am. When my insides and outsides don’t line up it’s unbearable. Like tights two inches short in the crotch. All day long, unbearable. Uncomfortable. Can’t I just clear the clutter in my mind and start over? Can’t I just rip off the tights? Slice them with a scissors and hear their prayer of release letting me breathe. I sweat the small stuff daily. I long for that break, that fulfillment, that solid chunk of quiet and contentedness of boxes checked, and ducks in a line of perfect so I can hold it in my hands- my worth, and run my fingers over its smooth corners and feel justified, feel productive, feel enough, feel alright, please, for just a few seconds.
But it never comes.
And something happened recently. I realized my tiny little babies are growing up.
And I realized the time DOES go by fast and it DOES get easier the older they get. You seasoned mommas repeating these mantras were unarguably correct. They are seriously EASIER. I can’t believe it myself. I am no longer forced to have a come to Jesus in the car before I can even step foot in Target with my two boys in tow.
Please Jesus, I just need baby wipes. And processed snack foods that are bad for you. And sugar. And a cute shirt I don’t need but will think I need when I’m thick in the throes of the red and white. Please do not allow:
the dumping of an entire bag of chips or box of cereal
grumpy old ladies
anything made of glass anywhere near my boys
Please Jesus- At least for the next 23 minutes this is my prayer as I run through aisles of Target grabbing things I need and couldn’t possibly ever need, shoving stuff into my cart so I can be back in this very car unscathed in just a tiny short while. Amen.
PS- Do you think I have time for a Starbucks while I’m in there. Please, show me a sign.
And wasn’t it yesterday that I swore I couldn’t nurse for one-more-minute, I couldn’t change another gosh blessed diaper? And now, today- there is no more nursing. No more daily diapers in two different sizes. And instead of exhilaration, I feel… Sad. So maybe what I want, isn’t what I want at all sometimes.
I just want to be present, grateful and alive. It’s so simple. Why do I make it so complicated?
Time. It’s the one thing that never moves fast enough for any of us. Not while we are waiting in line. Not while we are in traffic. Certainly not at the post office or the DMV. Not while we are waiting for Summer or the end of 40 weeks or for paint to dry. Not while we are learning something new or waiting for this phase to end. Not while we are waiting for something to be created or built. Not while we are destroying and starting over. Not while we are moving. Not while we are moving on. Not while we are healing. Not while we are waiting for outcomes or answers. Not while we are nursing or diapering or cooking or cleaning or painting or lawyering or working on a project. Yes, we curse time because it just isn’t fast enough.
But when it comes to our lives- our real actual- this is what’s most important to me in life- lives– time moves so fast we just can’t keep up. We beg it to slow. Time only has two speeds, too slow and too fast. And neither are up to us. What are we trying so desperately to keep up with in the first place? Because the babies are growing and the friendships are there waiting to be watered. This world is incredible. Magnificent. The choices we have line in an endless row of infinity further than my eyes can focus on. There are still so many places I want to visit. Foods I want to try. Friends I want to drink coffee on a random Wednesday with and have Margarita Fridays next to. I want to pause before I sweep those damn toddler size 9 footprints off my floor and take a moment to praise God for this tiny little life that lives under the same roof as me.
The bills will get paid. The floor will be swept. The errands will be ran. The marriage will be watered. The friendships will be cherished. The Thank You cards will be written. The sheets will be changed. The paper work will be completed. The yard will be mowed and the fridge will be filled. But here’s the thing- never ever at the same time and that’s ok. We are crossing off items at the bottom of the list while we constantly add things to the top. Let this awareness set us free. There is no reason to hurry. Your worth is not an accomplished to do list. People are CRAZY about you in this world. And not for what you do or accomplish in a day. For who you are. Say that sentence slowly- I am loved for who I am. (Don’t feel stupid- I’m saying it too).You are not simply “enough”. Or ample. Or adequate. Or sufficient. You don’t have to strive to be enough because you already are- AS IS. The flaws just prove we are one of a kind and hand made. Besides- who wants to simply be enough when you are already remarkable, unique, awesome, astounding? God gave us all these gifts that we downplay. It’s so rude to criticize gifts someone gave to us. At least for today, let’s enjoy the gifts and screw the lists.
So Much Love,