Ladies (and gentlemen), take heart! You’re in good company! We’re all a mess. Messy, goopy, gloppy, sloppy. Like my bathroom floors that need roughly 43 going-overs before they get clean. Or that 100% of 25% of our main living area that looks worse after an attempt to organize the room, only 25% of which I have the heart to show you today (see above!). Like that time as a post partem fanatic (and I’m giving a very long time frame for post partem, here) I dashed out the back door grabbing time I didn’t have to go grab something I – thought I – ABSOLUTELY NEEDED 5.34526589 weeks before that, wearing stained clothes and modeling the latest style in hair fashion: bangs sticking straight out.
It’s been much on my heart to encourage. Encourage those of us (all of us!) who deal with issues like crippling fear, depression, moodiness, broken families, regrets etc. There’s hope.
A phrase that’s come to mind a lot lately (and I believe it may be related to this topic, but, no guarantees. My brain and the words that come out of it are as messy as my home) is what a friend texted right after she got home with her new baby: “all I have to do is take care of this tiny human”. Of course that’s what there’s time for when we bring a baby home. But I think that in our ordinary days when there are thousands of distractions, the same applies, moment by moment. All I had to do after getting the kids up from naps is go over the bathroom floor twice. When I ran out of cleaning solution before the first time, and the broom had been dropped for the 10th time and the toilet brush touched for the hundredth time, and then they discovered the toilet plunger,… and I could go on…, all I had to do in that moment was peacefully end the cleaning fiasco and re-calibrate. I’ll do the 2nd of 41 goings-over while husband puts the kids to bed, I reasoned.
And then the broom handle swept a contact solution container onto my unsuspecting nose while I tried to keep my 1yo from falling down the steep stairs and I yelled and then re-calibrated and explained that I was fine and it was an accident and lets now just get down stairs for snack. And then resumed the anti-falling devices and stepped on the unseen fallen contact solution container and almost fell down the stairs myself. And then swore AND yelled. And then took a deep breath and apologized and then said let’s keep going down. And then commenced with all we needed to do right then, which is snacks. (And even then, we didn’t follow that routine.) But peace was restored.
Right now, I need to sign off to tend to a little fellow who needs me. Just to be held. Probably just for 2.5 minutes.
I’m going to go do that! Bye now!