Hard Work

Some days it seemingly appears out of nowhere although it must have been brewing for a long time. The ugly cry. The yelling. The being the mom you don't want to be. It happened to me today. All my triggers were there, I just didn't see it coming. The other day, someone likened my kids to having triplets and while I can't put myself in the shoes of someone who has to feed THREE tiny humans every couple of hours throughout the night, I feel like I do share some struggles with the multiples moms. Mine are all still in diapers (judgment judgment judgment!), they all cry when they want something, and sleep through the night could be worse, but it could be a lot better, too. I end every day feeling as if I haven't been able to sit down and I truly haven't. Today, I did though. I should have known I would break down. After rushing out of the house, leaving behind a screaming preschooler with the sitter, I arrived at Abel's speech therapy. It all felt so pointless. He can't hear yet I'm driving an hour away to do this. I got home and felt so sleepy, drained. I ignored the house I should clean and the big boy I should play with. I put the baby in the swing and checked out. I don't want to be like that. I want to soak up every minute with the precious kids God has placed in my care, but y'all I'm tired. I don't know what's wrong with me.

J came home and we all went outside for awhile to enjoy some fresh air. When he came back in the house to take a conference call, I thought I'd check something online I've been meaning to research (our yard is fenced in and private). I stepped away for about two minutes and when I came back? Potting soil EVERYWHERE. All over the dog. In the crevices of smiles, teeth, and fingernails. Most notably however was the degree to which it was caked on the curly headed toddler who just had surgery on his head. I flipped.

Instead of smiling about how boys will be boys, I was mean and hurried them all to the bathtub. Trying to get dirt out of Abel's hair was only making matters worse and by the time they were semi-clean, I just put them all to bed despite the late hour. Then I cried.

Mothering is hard work.