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.}
