on a wednesday in january

it was an emergency. 

I was finally having my first cup of coffee at 4 o’clock in the afternoon, and had nothing to go with it. 

I raided my own kitchen in search of a baked… anything. 

to no avail. 

the coffeecake I took to my meeting yesterday is only a few crumbs now. 

joey and I didn’t “make cookies in the mixer” as he had pleaded. 

I was trying to eat healthy, for heaven’s sake! 

I started keeping a food journal (!) this morning, and ate only yogurt & granola & cottage cheese & banana… and whole wheat pancakes and eggs…  those have gotta be healthy, right?  I checked. 118 calories per serving – perfect. but, oh wait – how many servings did I have? I ate a little over half the batch, while joey nibbled on his snowman-shaped portion, so probably like 2?  WHAT?! it made EIGHT servings?! so I just had the amount they’d expect 5 people to eat?!

{that’s when the shame started creeping over my soul. this companion I try to shake off, give the cold shoulder… but she doesn’t take the hint, and at the littlest thing, she begins to whisper worthlessness. and, worse, I begin to agree with her, edge over into self-loathing.}

and piled on was the fact that I’d been trying to get to the grocery store all day (or even start a stupid load of laundry), and had been unsuccessful. in fact, the house was a disaster again, after starting off the day fairly clean… it’ll just take a few minutes to clean up, I innocently thought this morning. nope. especially when the entire day is a hand-to-hand combat with messmaker especial. coupled with the baby who has recently taken to rejecting breastfeeding, and just screaming with it in his mouth (or chomping down and not letting go, like a bear trap). I was exhausted and ready for them to go down for their naps so I could have some alone time, gather myself, clean up the entire cup of flour that was spilled in the pancake-making and subsequently tracked all over the dark-wooden floors (and coffee table? how did MY flour-footprint get on the coffee table?! this mom-brain stuff is brutal).

then he drove up. he knew I was having a tough day, so he got his last two periods covered, and drove home  -surprise!! (he had actually texted me he was coming, but I hadn’t seen it) that’s when I fell apart. I was grateful for a love to come rescue me. but the timing felt the opposite of perfect.  I just wanted to put these tired kids down to nap, and he’s offering to take them out so I can have a break (but joey needs to freaking sleep so he can go to his thing tonight while you have bible study at our house, with flour all over it).

 I get so overwhelmed by the suddenness of it all that I can’t even appreciate it. joey goes to bed and doesn’t nap for an hour-and-a-half, while Jason holds the sleeping baby and I DO nap. but the house still looks the same, and the laundry is still undone, and we haven’t made it to the store, and now there’s nothing for dinner, and I still haven’t faxed my 7-week-old doctor’s note to work saying I can come off maternity leave now, or e-mailed my manager, or made judah’s 4 month appointment (and with how popular our pediatrician is, he likely won’t get in till at least 6 months old at this point. are his immunizations up to date? no. and dang it, he needs a flu shot so he doesn’t die!), or mailed the darn hebrew bible to the customer who bought it on amazon over a week ago… ugh.

so I get up from my nap and feed the bear-trap baby, and he swoops both boys away. I sit catatonic for the first ten minutes. then I realize I am angry (maybe when I open-palmed the door of the armoire, making a satisfyingly loud noise through frustrated tears, should have been a heads-up… I’m a little slow. mommy brain, ok??); and when I’m angry, it does my soul good to do a little writing.

I grab my journal and set it with my phone and laptop, near the daily prompt-holding-fine-china, and go to my trusty French press. and that’s when I realize we have no comfort-food-baked-treat anywhere. 

but wait! what’s this? 2-week-old chocolate chip cookie dough? heck yes.

 so I bake it in the microwave, and eat it with a fork like a queen as I type this.  

it was an emergency, ok?

that was yesterday.

 today, my love stayed home from work, since I couldn’t fathom being in the flour-covered house with those two crazies by myself all day… 

and now? 

the laundry is done, floors swept, faxes and e-mails sent, Judah has an appointment only a week and a half away… and yet, still, shame lingers. where is my heart? it's hiding. got lost in that self-loathing that has felt so familiar, and now it's afraid to show up.

  sure we got all those things done that had been weighing on me 

(plus cooked the pumpkins joey grew and made the cabinet in our room into a jewelry holder! “today’s the day!” we kept saying), 

and that is wonderful. 

wonderful. 

but I almost feel even more worthless afterwards… 

I “should” be able to do this stuff.  I “shouldn’t” need help. 

and i feel beat up. like an unrecognized enemy has had their way with me. 

and it has. 

again.

what does all this have to do with being brave?

only that:

it stops here. 

{i know the truth. that i am beloved and worth it. i may be afraid to stand up to the bullying shame, but i take up my arrows anyway and take aim.} 

linking up with emily's place, talking about "mother" today...