Can I be honest? It was a disappointing Mother's Day.
I started the day plunging a clogged toilet and it went
downhill from there. Sibling rivalry, laundry mountains, ant infestations, and being
caught embarrassingly empty-handed when my stepmother-in-law stopped by unexpectedly
to bring me a mom's day gift and I, in my absentmindedness, had nothing for her…not
even a card.
I silently fumed when the History channel's war-themed programming
filled the morning and there was no breakfast in bed, no sweet hugs, no happy
greetings or appreciative speeches, just the usual sports and work talk I resented
hearing.
I gritted my teeth when my husband asked me to rub his
aching back, trying hard not to mention the state of my own agonizing aches,
and again later when I woke him up from his nap with a yawn since
I had been up most of the night listening to him snore.
I tore into the card he had picked up the night
before, reading his haphazardly signed name and noting the absence of more
names, no crayon-scrawled signatures to speak of. No wrapping paper or roses,
no special dinner, foot rubs, pancakes, or heart-shaped necklaces. No
thoughtful diatribe…just a few jotted words, an obligatory sentiment…an
afterthought.
It was just as any other Sunday. Chaos, church, cranky kids.
I cleaned up countless dog messes and we don't even own a dog (we're
dog-sitting). I bandaged boo-boos and refereed bickering children, washed
dishes, cooked dinner, cleaned toilets, overlooked homework, managed bath time,
handled poison oak and undertook the usual onslaught of daily drudgery that is
my life.
I just wanted a day. One day. One trip to the
bathroom without hollering and pounding on the door. One hour of blissful
napping while someone else hushed the children for a change. One meal's dishes
not waiting for me in the sink. One car ride without wrestling the car seat's
buckles or intercepting backseat battles.
One day.
Instead, I got what I always get…tears and blood, body
fluids and bickering, dirty dishes and mounds of laundry. I got more tired with
each hour, more frustrated, more entitled. Every interruption made my
disposition chip away. I waved goodbye to my husband as he headed to work for
the night and continued the grind…dinner, homework, bath time, bedtime stories.
I glanced again, alone in a pout, at the romantic movie that had lost its
appeal. Who wants to watch a romantic movie when they're alone, ticked off, and
disillusioned with romance altogether?
I'd have to watch it alone because my husband was at work.
On week two without a day off, working two full-time jobs at once while he
transitions into a new position. I have a laundry mountain to fold because I
have healthy, happy children who play hard and dirty their clothes and a washer
and dryer to clean them. I have dishes in the sink because we're nourished
every day and despite our financial challenges, we have what we need.
I long for a moment in the bathroom alone, for a shower in
peace. I haven't had that experience in ages because I have a boy who loves his
mother, who misses me desperately when we're apart, even if just for a moment.
I have older children who know I'm there for them, all the time, no matter
what, even when I'm tired or cranky or wishing silently to pee in peace.
Tomorrow my hands will itch and burn from accepting the
bouquet of an eager young boy, handing me handful of poison oak leaves as a
beautiful gift while I recited the rhyme in my head, "Leaves of three, let
them be." He was trying, in his tiny way, to honor his mama on this
special day, and through the inconvenience… can I even see that? Can I see the
gifts of this day through the cloud of entitlement and disappointment?
Can I see them lined up one by one, the gifts I longed to be
free from for just one day? If I had gotten my wish to break away from
all of this for some sought after peace, what would be better than these signs
of life? A few minutes of sleep? Another necklace in my jewelry box?
How about an opportunity to kiss the little blonde head
while snapping plastic buckles on the car seat, to teach my bickering children
about forgiveness, to wipe tears off skinned knees, to show grace to my
husband who works hard and loves well? When I'm feeling unappreciated,
overwhelmed, always on…will I miss the gift of honor here, will I forget that it is pure gift to get to do these things, that I can do these things?
I still want a nap, a massage, someone else to do the dishes
for a change, but I will tear metaphorical paper off the gifts disguised as
inconveniences today, rejoice in them and in the Giver, and hope I am better behaved tomorrow.
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Linking to: www.aholyexperience.com {technical difficulties preventing me from adding the link-up graphic}
