A Day in the Life....

With eyes still shut I roll over, my mind is awake now, I urge my body not to follow. Feet hit the floor, not mine. Smaller feet, faster feet, louder feet. My ears are awakened now, and if they weren't the screams that followed the scampering of feet did the job.

I squeeze my eyes closed tighter, wait for it... "THUD", right on time, the door flings open and hits the wall. I lay still, slow my breathing, eyes still closed. Maybe they'll think I'm still sleeping, maybe they won't jump... "MOM!!" Little arms on me, bodies climbing over me, surrounding me, now my body is awake.  I'm up...

Rubbing my eyes, reminding my feet to move, one step, then the other, down the stairs we go. Inundated with request, no demands. Cereal, juice, waffles, t.v. show, eggs, toast, wipe my butt... I stand at the sink, staring out the small kitchen window, ears flooded with demands, legs being pulled on by a screaming 13 month old.

Coffee, I have to have coffee, I can't move forward without it, of this I'm sure.  I begin the shuffle, slamming around the cereal bowls and cups of juice, doing my best to not speak, if I do it will surely be screams. I, not very graciously, give each child what they demand, while I wait for my coffee to brew. Now I stand, cup in hand, I just need a minute. I need to get my head on straight, recall all of the days necessary things, like the day of the week, what month is it again? Appointments, dinner, lunches, schedules, practices, floors, laundry, bathrooms, dishes... children. You know, the usual.

A while later I sit to read, open my book, pick up  my pencil, get to the second line... Screams erupt, tears soak a sweet little face, a body shakes. A large and bleeding bump to the head has been acquired by a 3 year old. After further inspection, all is needed is some ice and a lot of love. So much for the book, that opportunity has been lost in the sea of tears.

The hustle and bustle of the day continues, showers, baths, lunches, fights, the anxiety from the morning never leaving, only continue on it's cycle as it escalates to anger, then retreats to guilt.

Finally, quiet. One child sleeps, one is singing her heart out in her room, while the oldest tinkers with his Legos in his room. I sit, looking around at the new piles of crumbs on the floor, the once folded blankets thrown about, the shredded papers everywhere. I see the scattered crayons on the t.v. stand, the toys left out, books with torn pages tossed around. I see a mess, I see more work, I feel angry, defeated, frustrated that my days begin, and ends, with refereeing, cleaning, consoling... A minute to sit, that's it, that's all I wanted, to read, and drink my now 5 hour old, cold cup of coffee, to sit and pray and meditate...

Lost in my thoughts, attempting to stuff down my emotions, and muster up the will power to jump back into the never stopping hamster wheel that is my life. I hear a voice, a sweet voice talking, my attention is now drawn to the 3 year old girl standing at the t.v. stand in front of the pile of crayons and pencils. Her back is turned to me, with her wild hair, t-shirt and underwear she stands with crayons and pencils in her hand. I open my mouth to stop her from what I think is coloring on furniture, only to realize that she isn't guilty of what I almost accused. She is pretending the pencil is the mother, the crayons are the children. They are having a lovely conversation about what they will eat for lunch and what book they will read.

I'm stuck, I can't move, frozen in place... With an aching heart, a knot in my throat, hot tears start to trickle down my cheeks. My anxiety flees, my mind clears... This is what my day was supposed to be, this is where my heart is. For the next hour, I don't move, I sit right where I was, watching, smiling, listening... Anxiety now replaced with joy, my day is new, I'm refreshed, filled, and ready to face the rest of the day.

It's so hard to overlook all the stuff that has to be done, and remember there are 4 little hearts that need to be nurtured and loved. It's hard to not wake up, and before my eyes are even opened, no be overwhelmed with the anxieties of the day ahead of me. I try, I really do, and some days, I succeed, others not so much.

My point? Well, I don't know about the rest of you moms, but what I know for me, is that no day will ever be perfect. Some days will be awesome, and filled with joy, some days will awful, some days I will do everything just good enough, not great but just good enough. For me, the struggle has been understanding that, understanding that no matter how hard I try, the day will not ever be perfect. I can't control all the tears, and fights, and messes, and emotions... I can't control life... I can try my best to make the best of it, and sometimes I will succeed, and sometimes I will fail.

 And, well, that's okay with me.