Yesterday, my good friend had her second son at a hospital close to our home. I really wanted to scoot over there to see both her and the baby. We had our last two kids on the same exact day and so I was unable to visit her in the hospital for her first birthing since I was at home having just given birth myself. I put together a little gift basket for her and begged J to come home early and play outside with the boys. As we waited I could feel my patience with the kids wearing thin.
The Bear wouldn't stop crying and whining to go outside. He was tired and hungry, dinner was still 30 minutes away and he wanted to play with his bulldozer in the mud right then and there. Cubs took the top off my water bottle, which was tucked inside my purse, while we were at the grocery store and I failed to notice so by the time we got home my purse and its contents were drenched. Then while I was looking through said purse, trying to salvage a few receipts and makeup that I carry around but never wear I heard an ominous plop in the toilet. I assumed Cubs had thrown in a toy or himself. But he had thrown in the nice camera my parents bought me last christmas. All the while the soundtrack of the Bear crying and whining played in the background. I wanted to scream.
So I did.
I yelled at my two little guys. J got home and I could tell from the way he looked at me that he knew things had gone south very quickly for me that afternoon. I am two weeks away from my third trimester and the exhaustion is getting to me. I also have not one but two toddlers and all I wanted to do was go to the hospital 8 blocks away to see my friend and her new little angel. So I left in an angry huff, marched to the car, climbed inside and slammed the door, cried for a minute, fixed my awful awful mommy hair in the mirror and took off to see my pal.
By the time I got to the hospital I had cooled down considerably. 10 minutes later I was gazing through a pane of glass into a room of baby heavenly deliciousness. A handful of freshly bathed newborns, my pal's sweet little guy included, looked up dreamily from their bassinets at the overhead lights. I wondered about the little goober in my own belly and marveled at how fast this pregnancy is going, before I know it he'll be here too.
I was able to sneak in a few minutes with my girlfriend which I has hoping for but did not expect. She had only given birth an hour and a half before I got there and was still waiting for the effects of the epidural to wear off. She looked radiant. (She'll roll her eyes when she reads this, but its so true). Puffy and sweaty like all of us look after we give birth sure...of course, she just gave birth!! But also radiantly happy and serenely peaceful. She is one of these women who has just always been a mother. Even before her own children came into this world she just had an aura around her that screamed, "I am a mommy and I'll take good care of you." I kissed her goodbye a few minutes later, waved good bye to her ecstatic husband and headed home to my brood of minions. Ha!
Yes, I have a list. In my mind this list of "Things to do before baby #3 arrives" gives me a false sense of control and order. It makes me feel like I have it all taken care of, I have a plan and I am good at executing plans. But this is so far from the truth. Then there is the other lie that attacks when I have days like yesterday where things in my life literally go down the toilet and I feel like a complete failure. I worry that my bout of temper and yelling will be ingrained in my boy's minds forever or that their earliest memory of me will be a vision of a pregnant yelling hysterical woman that hasn't showered in two days. Lies, lies, lies.
The truth is simple. I love my life here in the bungalow with J and my boys and my garden. (I'll even grumble under my breath that Diva Dog makes life pretty great too). But its not like I run around all day singing to my children, working in my rose garden, baking bread and tooting butterflies. I work hard at keeping my house and my kids together. Because I am human, a sinner, and always tired from being pregnant, I very often "fail" to succeed at the standards I set for myself. But that is really ok. I love my boys and all I can do is work hard to do better the next day.
I reread a verse the other day that meant a lot to me. I scrawled it on a piece of paper and placed it on the dining room table for J and I to see. It really helps to have something like that to focus on and look at when we are feeling exhausted and our weaknesses get the better of us. I can feel those lovely fruits of the Spirit that I try to hang on to slip away from me. Then I read the following:
"And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things, at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work." 2 Corinthians 9:8
That one powerful sentence means so much more than a hundred check marks on a long list of perfect life goals. Even when I feel emotionally crazy and exhausted by kids, God is there to fill me with peacefulness, gentleness, faithfulness, etc. He is just waiting for me to let Him fill me with these oh so necessary gifts, things I need so I can abound in the good work of raising my boys and loving my husband. Ultimately, thats what makes our life here together work. Thats how J and I can still love each other well at the end of a hard week. I believe with all my heart that this outpouring of grace is what will keep me sane when three months from now I give birth to our third baby in four years of marriage.
As for the camera....RIP, it was a nice run we had with you. I am trying to scrounge up the old warranty to see if Canon replaces cameras thrown into the potty by sneaky 1 1/2 year olds with adorable smiles and twinkly blue eyes.
Little fart.
1 comment:
even though i'm not a mommy, this was like reading a devotional for me this morning. loved it elsie! love you too & think you do a beyond incredible job every day.
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