The other day: I was running my bootie off with two little girls and breaking my lower back lifting 30 lb toddler everywhere I went. It was time to be somewhere, twenty minutes ago, and of course little man pooped right when everyone was heading to car. “Put them in the car!”, I say to self as I’m running around, “gotta get ’em into the car.”
Even among the many beautiful times where I smash my lips to his chubby cheeks for his millionth kiss, or get eye level with her while holding her hands to tell her it’s okay; even among these times, I have difficult snippets.
As a stay home mom, life isn’t divided into good and bad days. It’s divided into little snippets…blissful ones and wayyy non-blissful ones.
In this particular moment, I did not have smile on my face. I wasn’t feeling ‘happy’ in this snippet. Was I feeling sorry for myself? Nah. Did it mean I wanted to go back to work and quit being a stay home mom? No. Did it mean I was wishing I had a different kind of life since this can be ugly (like literally poop/puke ugly) at times? Nope. Did it mean I carried guilt around for feeling pissed off and not happy in many of my snippets? Definitely yes. Yes to the guilt, which I realize is on me.
But I wasn’t bitching, wasn’t complaining (lie, I texted Christine 4 x’s), wasn’t feeling not fortunate. It was simple: I was going through the motions, looking and feeling like a wreck and not being particularly chipper about it. That’s it. Thatisall.
Unassuming is a suitable word regarding what was about to happen.
6YO, 4YO and 18MO packed in car with a movie on (I shed the guilt about TV and movies years ago) while I finished gathering everything necessary for a typical/daily car trip.
19YO son home from college sitting at counter eating rando pile of conglomerates (he did help with kids earlier so I was semi-tolerating his loud chewing) and watching me run around in circles to gather all the crap: sippy cup, binky, shoes (I put them in the car without shoes…it’s a thing), bag of goldfish crackers (to throw, one by one, into backseat while driving), Norwex deliveries, purse, diaper and wipes, where’s my phone? (louder) Where’s my PHONE?!?, sunglasses (no, that will come later during one of the five subsequent ‘oops I forgot something’ run-ins) I’m almost ready to jump into the driver’s seat!!
I quickly clean up the peanut butter smeared onto wall before it gets dried and cakey. I do a quick glance into dining room mirror and pause for second – …what the…When did this become ok?! Who said this was acceptable? No one. Absolutely no one said “It really is okay to look like this. You can totally get away with this. Especially in public. You should go out in public.”
I gotta keep moving, and as I’m sliding out the door (again), 19YO says,
“you know…you’re doing God’s work.”
(insert the sound of a screeching record player)
I stopped in my tracks like Marty McFly when Biff calls him chicken, and I turned around,
“What did you just say?”
With a twinkle in his eye and a sweet smile, (and mid-chew obviously),
“I said you’re doing God’s work, Mom. You really are! You’re amazing.”
My body turned into one giant spaghetti noodle. I almost crumpled to the floor. Somebody was taking it all in, actually noticing what I was doing. And despite all the %&@!&’ing curse words from stepping on Barbie shoes and Legos and getting baby poop wiped on me and feeling like I smell like actual shit all day long, he thought I was doing the work of God. And told me so.
A 19YO stopped what he was doing for a hot-second to tell his mom to take it easy. “You’re doing fine. More than fine.”
Is this a big deal?!
This made my life.
And many of you will totally get that.