Tuesday, September 11, 2012

letting go

By 9pm last night when I finally tucked the last boy in bed for the last time, I sat on the kitchen counter and ate a bag of chips for dinner.  I drank a soda too. I'd like to tell you that I sat there having deep, godly thoughts about how good it felt to work hard at being a mom.  But actually, I was missing my husband, pondering the possibility of full time house help and wondering if 2 kids might be enough for me.

Yesterday was out of control.

If I wasn't cleaning up spit up, I was changing an explosive diaper.  By nightfall, a layer of milk, juice, spit up, and cracker crumbs had overtaken the floor. My feet and back were aching from the near constant pick up of blocks and toys. The power was off the entire day, which means I kept looking with foreboding at our freezer.  (Thankfully, lights and fans were in motion. I love generators.)

The reality is that things really went pretty well, all things considered. I had a decent language lesson, fed, bathed and clothed all parties, maneuvered 2 kids to the drop off/pick up spot for the bus, managed a moderately uneventful trip for Jude to the doctor with both kids in tow,  thanks to the spare hands of a friend who came along, started a coughing Silas back on the nebulizer, heated water for bath time, read stories, sang songs and ended with a house that was adequately pieced back together. Sans David, it was a decent day.

But I felt stressed out.


When I started thinking about what it was that stressed me out, it was generally related to a mess.  The floors. The toys. The dishes. The laundry that was piling up beside a power-less washing machine.  And my inability to tackle the tasks over the demands of my little people.

I am a little compulsive about straightening.

Two kids has toned me down some, but not much.  I can hardly relax until everything is in place. One of my primary goals in housekeeping is that with 5-10 minutes notice, I can entertain guests without embarrassment. It's a goal that needs some modification in this season of life. Reality is knocking down my dreamy ways of one-child living. What exactly qualifies as an embarrassing house? That level seems to be altering with two wild boys.

I think this week of solo parenting is going to be a good stretching ground for me.  I still want to have a hospitable home but my ability to 'let go' of household (semi)perfection is not just a necessity for survival, it's necessary for me to enjoy days rather than huff and sigh through them.


Here's to letting go of what doesn't really matter, and pressing into what does! 

1 comment:

Glen and Bethany said...

You did a language lesson while your hubby was away?? Amazing! Praying for you this week, Sister. Loved your reflections - thank you!