all things

I know by the looks of things, I’m living that sweet flannel jammie life of a stay-at-home mother with two adorable-beyond-explanation little girls, plus the awesome big kids, and things are pretty much popcorn and hot cocoa and errbody wanna be me…

And I am, except

that this life with little ones is an exhausting one, in a way that I can’t put my finger on, but my heart is so tired.

And I’m not measuring up one single bit in any respect. I read all the articles about solidarity among moms and the coffee jokes and the “you’re doing fine, momma” and it seems like everybody is busy failing just like me

But failing isn’t where they land and “good enough” isn’t really good enough when we’re talking about flabby arms and gray hairs, but I am so tired

My pink-cheeked baby whispers all the time “feeeeeeed meeeeeeeee”

And Arbor says “Mommy play with me play with me play with me”

My house screams “dirt dirt dirt and also dog hair”

And Merrick leaves wreckage paths a mile wide everywhere he goes, and I’m not sure I am a good female role model as worn out as I always seem to be

while Mia pleads for things she needs without even knowing what she needs or that she’s pleading for them, and my attention is custom-made for everyone except thirteen-year-olds on the go.

These kids want their mommy and my poor husband gets me at the end of the day and whispers “Let’s…” but I am sleeping a dreamless sleep before the lights are even out for the night

And my shoulders ache

Pinterest reminds me of all the stuff I’m not cooking and Instagram taunts me with all the places I’m not traveling and Facebook deflates me with all the events and activities that I’m not a part of

My best friend says “paint”

My old self says “run”

My body says “how ’bout a shower?”

And my head is pounding

And I am battling discouragement and anger, things that shouldn’t even anger me but they weigh on me and grit my teeth

And skepticism and pessimism, I suddenly speak fluently in both of them, and I grumble at my bible because there’s Jesus again, whispering “Come to me”

And does He not know I have all these things to do and be?

“Come to me all you who are weary”

And weary does not even define me but I know there are so many souls in the world who are so much more worthy of His burden-lifting

I’m just a mom

And that is it.

Our pastor explains that we get spiritually discouraged when we take our eyes off of Jesus and I get mad because my eyes are indeed off of Jesus and on the back of my eyelids

Or where I wish the back of my eyelids would be, because I am awake 25 hours a day everyday and I just want to sleep because I am just so tired

Also enraged for no reason at all.

How is everyone else keeping up?

But no amount of hours staring at the back of my eyelids will get me through one more minute

“I will give you rest.” Matthew.

And I think “well I know that, but”

And Jesus says “sssshhhhh”

And I can’t be all things to all people without spending time in the arms of the One who is all things to me

Father Friend listener comforter encourager helper empowerer rescuer savior king

And I remember how I begged Him for this life and these people and how I promised to take care of them and how He’s promised to take care of them

And of me

And I’m not sold on the coffee mantras of basic moms and I’m done sleeping away frustrations and doubts

And I’m remembering promises

And it’s been time to pray.


About Toni

Mom. Wife. Artist. I take care of the kids and pretend to clean sometimes. I can cook spagetti and I have never been arrested. View all posts by Toni

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