A Beautiful Mess.

Today almost got the best of me. 

I have three snot-nosed children who spent the entire day covering me in sneezes. I didn’t get a break from wiping noses and squashing catastrophes, aside from the hour I spent in Zumba class. If anyone wants to know why I am always grinning from ear-to-ear in Zumba, it’s because I am so happy to be there. No one snots on me and we dance to Michael Jackson. It’s pretty much heaven.

By the time this evening rolled around, I could feel myself LOSING IT. The snot, the slobber, the mess, the screaming … it was too much. Pepper was crying, popcorn was all over the floor, Asher was ripping into our mail and Maverick was refusing to do his homework. The whole situation was an absolute mess. And so I looked around, took a deep breath, decided locking myself in the bathroom was not an option, and dove right in. 

By the time I wrestled the toddler into bed, I was furious at Husband for not being here to help me. Sometimes I get so overwhelmed and exhausted that I don’t know what else to do but to get pissed off. That’s when I start sending angry text messages to him like “THIS IS NOT A ONE-PERSON JOB,” just in case he’s forgotten how hard I’m working.

I envision him sitting in his office with his feet propped up on his desk, enjoying silence and stillness and perhaps an uninterrupted snack, and then I get angrier. Because HE gets to poop in peace. HE gets to listen to normal music without worrying that his 5-year-old will learn the lyrics to Blurred Lines.

It’s so easy for me to fall into the trap of thinking that he has it easier, when in reality, he doesn’t. He has a stressful job too, and while he is stuck there he probably imagines an idyllic scene at home like this one below. Boys playing nicely, sun setting, a perfectly-makeup-ed wife holding a jolly baby as we all eat ice cream sandwiches.


Yeah, right.

And then, Asher snapped me out of my anger. I had him on my lap, singing Silent Night which is just what I do no matter the season — because all Mommy wants is a silent night, and I always hope the lyrics sink into his little head and make him sleep well — and he looked up, put his hands on either side of my face and whispered reverently “Gentle. Gentle.” Like he was touching something holy. And all of the sudden I realized I was. 

When it feels like I can’t pour any more of myself into them or I will disappear, one of my three angels reminds me that what I am doing is worth something much more than I can see or imagine right now. Man, my life is such a mess. A beautiful, beautiful mess.

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