Mommy/Child

I made a commitment to myself that I would use this time off join the mommy community group at church.  I know I need community, even if my introverted self would rather hide at home with my kids on Tuesday mornings.  So after a week of quarantine while the plague charged through our household, I bundled the kids up, yelled at Eli two or three times because he STILL wasn't putting his clothes on like I asked, put the car in drive, and headed up the road.  I got almost all the way out of our neighborhood when I remembered the bags of hand-me-down clothes I promised to another mom.  I wanted those clothes out of my family room, so I turned around.

Cue the weeping and gnashing of teeth from the backseat.  Mind you, minutes earlier, they were whining because they didn't want to go to adventure club; they wanted to stay home and hang out by the refrigerator while refusing the eat the food I provided.  But now that we were turning around?  IT.WAS.THE.END.OF.THE.WORLD.

"Eli, we are just going home to get something Mommy forgot.  We are still going to Adventure Club.  We'll just be a little late...and let's face it, you ought to be used to being late."

"Oooooooh.  I'm NEVER going to go to Adventure Club.  I don't GET to go to Adventure Club anymore."

??????

Am I the only person that hears what I say?

And then, that still small voice pipes in.  "Are you really any different?"

"I promised to provide for you when to took this step of faith.  I gave you peace and confidence.  I plopped this little adjunct job right in your lap.  I gave you an unexpected Christmas bonus.  I told you that I know you...I know the things that matter to you...and I promised to provide them.  And now, six weeks in, you've had to dip into your savings and you are freaking out.  You are already deciding you have to go back to full-time work in August.  You are FREAKING out.  You are doubting.  And I am telling you I've got this."

And that is the truth.  This little adjunct job doesn't quite free up my time the way I need it to.  I need more flexibility to do drop-offs and pick-ups next year.  I need to find a way to not need childcare.  I am so burnt out on teaching I can barely muster the strength to go.  There's a lot of loose and fraying ends.  It feels like we are turning around and racing back to where we were.

There's also this thing called my temper.  Parenting is hard, especially when the parenting involves two squirrely little boys.  I feel like I'm always angry.  Like I'm always yelling.  Like I'm always stressed.  This wasn't what I envisioned, and I feel like I'm failing.

The house is still messy.  We still sometimes eat crap.  James doesn't value what I do; heck, he doesn't even see what I do.  He gives me to-do lists when he goes to work; I guess he thinks I don't know the toilet needs to be cleaned.  Maybe he also thinks I don't know who peed all over it.

It doesn't feel like this is working.  It feels like I should turn the car around and cry because God didn't take care of me like He takes care of everyone else.  Except that it doesn't.  There's a little glimmer on the horizon, a little nudging that says I can trust.  That I need to focus on learning to parent and let God take care of the bottom line.

Maybe learning to parent means realizing I'm being parented too.  And I'm not much different from the little boys that tear my house apart and then climb on top of me while I'm trying to clean it up.  "I love you, Mama."  I love you two, little ones.  God will help us all grow up.