A friend from church once told me she'd take the physical exhaustion of babies and little ones over the emotional exhaustion of teenagers any day. In the present circumstance of said physical exhaustion that unfortunately sort of feels like a hopeless slap in the face. Could this really be easier than what's to come? Jesus take the wheel.
Here's what I'm realizing: this struggle I'm having in raising two kids is for me very much an emotional exhaustion - probably even more than physical. Emotional because my sweet baby boy is screaming his lungs out and I feel so bad? Emotional because I have a front row seat to my oldest being parented by PBS Kids? Sure, some. But ultimately my emotional exhaustion centers around my own selfishness.
This afternoon I sent out an SOS to my husband. In our string of texts back and forth (thank you Jesus he has service in his new school!) I later typed this: Mourning the loss of my old life when I could do things I needed or wanted to do, not just little kid crowd control.
If that isn't the ugliest thing I've ever said. I didn't just have a kid yesterday. I've been at this parenting thing for close to three years and I'm still mourning and wishing. Really? Sure, even the best of parents have their moments of wanting to go back to the glory days of kid-less freedom, but for me it's obviously more than that. I'm so consumed with my agenda that I consider taking care of these two babes "little kid crowd control." Let me find a way to maintain the people but also accomplish things. Knox, please stop crying so that you get good sleep and are able to be calm and not miserable - but also please stop crying so I can sleep or eat lunch or clean or sew new pillow covers because the pillow situation on our sofa is grating at my every nerve. And God forbid you wake your sister because if I lose that nap time then my to-do list really has no hope. Because if I lose nap time that means I only have after you two go to bed and I've showered and done the millionth load of laundry and picked up all the nanimals off the floor and pumped. Oh the pumping! By that time I have nothing left to give, not even to the dire pillow situation.
My emotions start flying off the handle. In part because I wonder why oh why my baby can't gather himself and calm down and get good sleep for his sake, but also in part because I just want to do what I want to do, what I need to do.
I literally just used choice words and tone of voice in pure confession to Jeremiah during a baby crying sess lasting well over an hour. Frustrated because for four nights in a row I've sat down to write and gotten nothing done because of all the distractions. I closed the computer on yet another failed night.
But thanks to my social media addiction I emotionally self-soothed on Instagram immediately after our conversation to find this Holy Spirit kick in the pants. Someone posted this artsy little quote:
Children are NOT a distraction from more important work, they are THE MOST important work. - C.S. Lewis (aka my least favorite author now)
BAM. And crap.
I often wish God would send visible signs (preferably with flashing lights) to tell me what I need to do with my life. There may not be lights, but tonight God clearly sent me an electronic sign - an Instagram post with His voice reminding me of who He's created me to be and what He's called me to do today. I'm a mother who needs a lesson in distinguishing wants from needs in life; a mother trying to serve two masters and failing miserably; a mother who has been given two kids to love like Jesus, who needs to focus on Him to find the strength and power to do that well. Because there's a whole lot more importance and life and eternity in these two innocent little gifts from Jesus than there is in throw pillows.
My emotions start flying off the handle. In part because I wonder why oh why my baby can't gather himself and calm down and get good sleep for his sake, but also in part because I just want to do what I want to do, what I need to do.
I literally just used choice words and tone of voice in pure confession to Jeremiah during a baby crying sess lasting well over an hour. Frustrated because for four nights in a row I've sat down to write and gotten nothing done because of all the distractions. I closed the computer on yet another failed night.
But thanks to my social media addiction I emotionally self-soothed on Instagram immediately after our conversation to find this Holy Spirit kick in the pants. Someone posted this artsy little quote:
Children are NOT a distraction from more important work, they are THE MOST important work. - C.S. Lewis (aka my least favorite author now)
BAM. And crap.
I often wish God would send visible signs (preferably with flashing lights) to tell me what I need to do with my life. There may not be lights, but tonight God clearly sent me an electronic sign - an Instagram post with His voice reminding me of who He's created me to be and what He's called me to do today. I'm a mother who needs a lesson in distinguishing wants from needs in life; a mother trying to serve two masters and failing miserably; a mother who has been given two kids to love like Jesus, who needs to focus on Him to find the strength and power to do that well. Because there's a whole lot more importance and life and eternity in these two innocent little gifts from Jesus than there is in throw pillows.
I can relate with only one babe- can't imagine two.
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