Holding You Up

"You were an angel in the shape of my mom
When I fell down you were there holding me up”

As I was standing in the kitchen making lunch, Ed Sheeran’s “Supermarket Flowers” song came on. I just stood there and cried. This is a hard season of life right now. Not bad, just hard. In the past six months I feel like I’ve been thrown into some big crazy emotions and life changes. [Recap: our house flooded, we had to live in a hotel for 8 weeks, welcomed a baby to the world, spent a week in the NICU, moved back into our house, Tony graduated, sold our beloved first little home, bought a new home, Tony started a new job, and we’re still settling into this new town, home, and lifestyle of him having to work all the time.] Back to today. I have two sick babies and we’re all running on very very little sleep. I had to run to the bank (and by “run to the bank”, I had to google where it was bc I know where nothing is around here and got lost so a 4 mile drive took about 30 minutes) and by the time I left the bank both boys were screaming. I was in the kitchen making lunch, worn out and cranky, trying to hold myself together with lots of prayers and anticipation for naptime when this song slapped me in the face. I want this sentiment to be how my children feel about me. I’ve realized lately that I have unfair expectations for myself. I want everything to be perfect. I want to be the best wife and mother. I want to be the best housekeeper and decorator (let’s face it, I’m not a merry maid nor am I Joanna Gaines). I want to be the best organizer and Pinterest doer (when do I even have time for that sh*t anyway?!). I want to run this home and be the best record keeper and bill payer (I prob should make sure the bills are paid on time though😆)… there’s just so much to do everywhere I look. The lack of sleep, the unmet to-do lists, and all the pressure I’m putting on myself is stealing my joy. Does it really matter if I always seem to have never ending pile of clean clothes on the couch waiting to be folded? Does it really matter if I suck at keeping my kids on a strict sleeping schedule? What if I don’t always give them the recommended daily servings of vegetables? When was the last time they took a bath? The real question is, WHEN was the last time that I actually took a shower?? Do all the petty little things really matter at all? No. What’s really going to matter down the road is that I loved my family and that we were happy. How I act now is how they will remember me later. My mood matters. The words I choose to use with my children matter. My attitude matters. The smiles and encouragement I can give to my husband in the few minutes a day I actually get to see him matters. I want to be a more gentle, more patient, more kind, and happier woman, wife, and mom. I want to choose words that build up my boys and make them confident and happy. Instead of complaining, I want to count all the blessings. I want my kids to look back and remember me for being silly, warm and happy, not so serious, stressed out and impatient. Most importantly, I want to extend myself a lot more grace that will overflow into all the other little nooks and crannies of my life — it’s okay if life is a little messy right now as long as we can all stay happy.

And even though this picture looks like it's staged, it's not. I was probably bribing him with ice cream and candy or telling him that the photographer farted just so he'd smile for the picture, but it turns out this is way better than any picture with us looking at the camera and smiling!


Edit: I posted this on FB and I wanted to copy and add this comment so I can save this incredibly nice comment from my brother. These words mean so much to me. 
1- No matter how much you accomplish, there will always be more to do. Forever!
2- You're being stupid and looking at your life (recent past) all wrong. Seriously, you guys have made it through the past few years like f'ing savages, crushing the obstacles that would end most people's sanity (not mention marriages!). Knowing that should have you walking around with you chest puffed out, your chin up and feeding off the energy of what you've done and the thought that so many others couldn't come close to what you have. 
You're not weak because you're tired and didn't finish some never ending list of crap to do. Your tired because you're busting your ass checking things off that list and surviving. So stop whining and keep running around like you did every single time I knocked you down as a kid. You're a freaking BOSS....act like it. 
And I luv u