Sparing you all the details, this "experiment" turned in to a kitchen pasted from counter to floor to doorknobs in this goopy mess. This is where it gets ugly. I lost my shizz y'all. I went on a rant about the mess, and about chores, and about cleaning, and about how no one helps me with anything around here, and every other thing in this world is just dumb and wrong and stupid and dumb. I may have even muttered curse words under my breath. I then stopped, took a deep breath, and realized no one was around to lay ears to my wrath. If they kids have learned anything, it is to run for the hills when mom turns 50 shades of red. I just sat down on the couch, finished my coffee, and waited for my poor children to come back into my circle of crazy. I apologized for my ranting and told them that, although I handled my emotions poorly, I needed help. I need them to pull their weight. I am simply asking them to be responsible for themselves and their belongings. Easier said than done.
So, we all sang "Kumbaya", and cleaned the house in harmony, right? WRONG.
Let me tell you, sometimes I think that kids just aren't my jam. I adore my kids. I love them with every cell in my body, but sometimes, I just want them to disappear into their rooms and not make a peep for a few
days hours. They are loud and messy and selfish and messy and loud (Wait, am I talking about me or the kids?). I am being very transparent when I say that sometimes, I forget how to mom. I forget what being a mom means and I get selfish. Being a mom is the most unselfish thing that a person can do. When you become mom, your own needs and desires are pushed down to make way for theirs. Now, that doesn't mean that you don't get to have coffee with the girls, or paint, or have a weekend to yourself. It does mean that 99% of the time, your kids are your life. It's all about where they want to eat, or what they want to watch, or what game they want to play. Sometimes that part makes us happy, and sometimes it makes us mad. Well, today I just got mad. I was tired of cleaning up after them constantly. I was tired of cooking 3 meals a day for everyone. I was tired of cleaning up spills. I was tired of their messes and the loud words coming out of their mouths. I was tired of laundry...so. much. laundry. I just wanted help....but I wasn't getting any. So, I had a small pity party, cried a few tears, threw a hanger across the room (yes it broke, and yes it felt really good), and went on folding laundry. I did not keep calm. I did not beg for forgiveness. I yelled, I put them to bed with a book, I went back and yelled a little more, I slammed a few doors, cried a little more, then I finished the laundry and re-made my bed (that they unmade while they were supposed to be helping with the laundry, but did no such thing).
Am I proud of it? No. Not even a little. Will they forgive me? Yes. Because children are full of grace, just like My Father. It's on days like this that I wonder if the reason I had my hissy fit was for me to see the fullness of His grace, and be thankful that my children extend the same grace to me.
Yes, I will apologize...again and again and again. I think it is important for our children to see that we are human. We are imperfect. We make stupid mistakes. We are not above apologizing when we do wrong, because they are no less important than anyone else in our lives. Then we can explain The Father's love to them, and that we extend the same to them.
Today didn't go as planned. No day every really does. Just when I think kids aren't my jam, I meet someone special.
|This is Underwoman.|
And this is why kids ARE my jam.
Hope your day is better than mine. Peace out to all you moms doing the most underpaid, under appreciated, toughest job in the world. We are in this together.