Friday, November 12, 2010

Just one of those days

Have you ever had one of those days that blends into the one before because the kids have been tag-teaming sleep patterns and tantrums? Of course they don't sleep at the same time for very long but they have no problems in the tandem tantrum event. They could win an award. 

I swear there is a reason why I drag my kids through a drive-thru every morning to get a cup of coffee. Actually there are several: 1. The kids are STRAPPED IN. I could stay in the car all day. 2. For the coffee, of course. 3. I don't have to make it or clean up after it. 4. I feels like someone is taking care of me. I have friends who tell me "oh, my husband is out of town for the night so my mother and sister are coming over to help". Envy. Then there are other friends who live far from family whose husbands are in the military or have to work long stretches out of town. OK, I'm better off than that. And single moms? I salute you. 

This week while my husband has been out of town has been an experience of single mommy-hood for me. Some parts were nice like eating what I wanted and having simple dinners etc. The hardest part is the isolation. In all honesty I have had a great deal of help from friends (Thanks!). I'm not ungrateful. But in general it's still up to me to go from child to child through the night and then to get up (early) the next morning to do the same thing again. I'm handling things, but not as gracefully as I would like. And then there are times like now when I want somebody to take care of me for a few minutes. I am also somebody's child and I want my mommy to give me a hug and make dinner.

My mother died a few years back. She never met her grandbabies. Just thinking about it makes me want to cry. She would have been incredibly annoying in her admiration of my children. But there you go. Nobody to ask about pregnancy/ labor. Nobody to tell me what I was like when I was that age because nobody remembers. Nobody to go for that coffee run while the babies are sleeping. Silence. Void.

I'll be honest with you. The pain is still there. I try to count my blessings but that makes me feel worse because I'm so much more fortunate than so many others. Then I feel that I have no right even to feel guilty about needing help. Isolation. But then I think that God really doesn't need my strength (if I'm really strong at all). He needs me to come to Him with my vulnerabilities so that He may guide me through. Sometimes I pray that Jesus tell my mom just how much I miss her and to tell her about her grandchildren. Sometimes I imagine that I can visit Mary and cry on her shoulder. Then she says to me "It's hard. I know. I know. I've been there. You're not alone.."  Pathetic? Definately. But it does keep me from having a meltdown in front of my kids (for the most part). Because, ladies, we have a tough job. If we don't take a step back and acknowledge it then we're doing ourselves a disservice. God values our hard work even if society doesn't.  After all, Mary had to wipe Jesus's bottom, too and I bet he was grateful for that.

Now one of those days is about to become one of those nights. My son is awake and will probably go down about the time my daughter wakes up. Am I whining? Certainly. But that's OK. It's tough. I know. I know. I've been there. And tomorrow I'll have my babies to hug and kiss and to tell that they're gifts from God. And it will be just one of those days. 

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