Deflated

Some days, the “joys” of motherhood just about kill me.

I play with Mr. Potato head. I work puzzles. I read books. I do laundry. I fix breakfast, lunch, supper and eighteen snacks.

I build towers out of blocks. I find missing dolls. I kiss booboos, pay bills and change twenty-three diapers, ten of them requiring full Hazmat gear.

I fall into bed and tell my husband that I feel like someone took a baseball bat and beat me with it.

But those days are easy enough to get over. After a good night’s rest, I’m ready for the new day.

Then there are the days when time after time, something happens that knocks the breath out of me. The days when everything goes wrong—the kids fight, the laundry annoys me, the recipe I try is a flop, the clutter threatens to overwhelm me—and I’m faced with the certainty that I get to do this all over again.

Tomorrow.

And the next day. And the day after that.

Yippee.

I fall into bed without a word. I feel overwhelmed. Defeated. And a good night’s rest can’t fix that.

But I’m not defeated.

I’m deflated.

And it’s an important distinction.

Defeated implies a state of permanent failure—my balloon popped and is scattered all over the floor in jagged pieces.

Deflated implies that there’s hope—my balloon hasn’t popped—it just needs some air, or better yet, some helium.

Motherhood has a way of sucking the life out of you. You can only give so much before you have nothing left. The key, for me, is to realize when I’m almost to the edge—before I get to it—and take some time to recharge, to fill my tanks, to re-inflate my balloon.

I have two ways of doing that. The first is the most important. I spend some time with the Lord. No one is as refreshing as He. The second way is to get out of the house for a few hours.

Alone.

I need time alone to regroup and re-energize. That’s what works for me, but some people need to get out with a few friends or work on a project or throw a party. It doesn’t matter what you need, as long as you know what it is and you make the time to get it.

It’s not about being selfish.

It’s about survival and sanity!

I’m a much better mom when I’ve had some time to myself. I come home ready to tackle the Little People explosion in my daughter’s room, prepared to sing every verse of Father Abraham and able to laugh when I’m changing the twenty-fourth diaper of the day.

Don’t let motherhood get you down. Figure out what your helium is—time with a good book, time in your garden, time at the gym—and re-inflate as often as you can.

Psalm 23:1-3a ~ The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. (ESV)

Summertime

Summer vacation.

If I were one of those moms who seem to thrive in the midst of chaos—who laugh (without crying) when small hand prints appear on freshly cleaned windows—who think the higher the decibel level in the house the better—then I would be thrilled.

News Flash.

I am not one of those moms.

Sorry.

I love those moms. Except for when I read their Facebook statuses—giddy and exultant over the thought of the months ahead—and feel like the worst mom alive.

Because I have to be honest—I’ve been dreading this.

I love kids. I even love having a houseful of kids and I enjoy watching them wreak havoc.

Once in a while. For a few hours, maybe a few days—max.

But when life returns to normal, I don’t think a day where everything goes off in an unplanned direction is a good day. I don’t think it’s funny when my kids spread dirt all over freshly swept floors. I have considered wearing earplugs just to take the edge off.

Sometimes I wonder if my kids would have been better off with a different mom. Someone a little less uptight. Someone a lot more fun.

But I know that isn’t true. No one on earth is capable of loving them the way I do. No one on earth is capable of knowing them the way I do. And no one else on earth has been called to be their mom.

As weird as I am, for better or worse, God put us together. We were destined before the world began to be a family. My strengths and weaknesses will be played out before them and will shape who they become.

At the same time, I firmly believe the truth of this quote from She’s Gonna Blow - "God didn't give you your children so you could fix them or whip them into shape. He gave you your children so He could make you more like Him."

I will be forever changed as I strive to be the best mom I can be to the three souls entrusted to my care.

So with that perspective firmly in mind, summer vacation—here we come!

My prayer for this summer is that we laugh a lot, learn a lot and grow a lot. (Well, the kids anyway—personally, I’m hoping to shrink a lot).

But mostly, that we love—a lot.

I Corinthians 13:4-8a—Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends. (ESV - emphasis mine)