On occasion, I have days when I feel like I just can't go anymore. I just want to crawl back into bed with a box of donuts and Netflix. I don't want anyone to need me. I'm done being Wonder Woman. Mommy needs a time out and a long nap... but there are long work days, kids to pick up from school, errands to run, little mouths clamoring to be fed, baths to be given, homework to be done, lunches to pack, and laundry to fold. Then it starts all over again in the morning. Throw in a nasty strep infection and you've got a complete trifecta of exhaustion.
I think Bilbo Baggins described the feeling best: "I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread."
As I tucked the kids into bed, croaking at the smaller ones to get back into bed for the fifth time, my six-year-old looked up at me with his large, blue eyes.
"Mom, can I pray tonight?"
"Sure, sweetie."
"Dear God, please heal my mommy. Thank you for her hard work so she can buy us good food. And please heal daddy."
I choked up. "I'm so sorry, baby," I started to cry. "I'm sorry I'm sick..."
"Shhh. It's okay, Mommy." He stroked my hair and kissed the top of my head.
In that moment, my son reminded me why. This, right here, is why I work so hard. This is why I'm going back to college and spending my nights packing lunches and folding endless loads of laundry after a long day at work. It doesn't matter where I am in life, whether I make lots of money or have a great career and college degree. It doesn't matter if I find the man of my dreams and live in my dream house. It matters that somehow by the grace of God, I'm raising three great kids. I need to remember that when I'm feeling exhausted and frustrated.
I think Bilbo Baggins described the feeling best: "I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread."
As I tucked the kids into bed, croaking at the smaller ones to get back into bed for the fifth time, my six-year-old looked up at me with his large, blue eyes.
"Mom, can I pray tonight?"
"Sure, sweetie."
"Dear God, please heal my mommy. Thank you for her hard work so she can buy us good food. And please heal daddy."
I choked up. "I'm so sorry, baby," I started to cry. "I'm sorry I'm sick..."
"Shhh. It's okay, Mommy." He stroked my hair and kissed the top of my head.
In that moment, my son reminded me why. This, right here, is why I work so hard. This is why I'm going back to college and spending my nights packing lunches and folding endless loads of laundry after a long day at work. It doesn't matter where I am in life, whether I make lots of money or have a great career and college degree. It doesn't matter if I find the man of my dreams and live in my dream house. It matters that somehow by the grace of God, I'm raising three great kids. I need to remember that when I'm feeling exhausted and frustrated.
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