I didn't know how I was going to parent 3 girls under 3 years old. It was a mystery in my mind.
I didn't think I'd be able to take 3 girls three and under into Costco on my own, let alone take Bella "potty" there while watching the other 2 AND my things.
I didn't think I'd get any sleep. It's still not enough, but it's there.
I didn't think I'd be able to shower again, ever. So far this week, I'm going on 2 showers in 3 days time. Pretty good record, for me.
I feel like every day is a test of my limits. I am physically, emotionally, and spiritually tired. I get to the end of the day, and I pray to God that I did something good while I was just trying to survive. I hope and pray that I did not permanently injure my child's psyche when I had a little break-down over stubbing my toe. I hope my kids' intelligence won't be too far diminished by the television I used as a "helper" on the hard days.
What am I saying? Every day is a hard day.
I read a "devotion for mothers" this morning, and it was talking about being joyful. That a negative and critical spirit is contagious (Sorry, Daniel... I've passed my illness on to you. I'm working on it...).
It also said that we as Christians should feel "free" and that our joy ought to flow from that. I'm not sure that Christ himself always had a perky disposition. He was stressed, and a little anxious at times, I believe. He was tested to his limits. I don't know that he was always happy about his Father's will for him, but perhaps he didn't lose his joy that it was all for a purpose he believed in. So I guess the question is, is everything I do for something I believe in? Am I willing to be this exhausted for a little while, in exchange for....
Will my kids even be grateful that their tired and grouchy mother chose to stay home with them? Am I able to give them everything they need from me? Of course, they're being fed, and clothed, and bathed. They are being put to bed at a decent hour, given naps, being held when they cry. They get kissed and hugged, and we brush their teeth and tell them we love them.
We are present. When they cry "mommy" (as disgruntled as I sometimes am), I will be there.
I will be here. I hope that's good enough for now.