It's really easy to remember all the good stuff but forget all the bad it took to get you there. In 15 years of being with Jeremy it's so easy for me to remember all the good things that have happened. But further back in the recesses of my mind I barely remember the struggle. Like the time I cried on a complete stranger in an elevator because I found out I would have a really hard time with infertility. Right then it seems like nothing would be okay. But eventually I let go. Then I got two little miracles. I don't ever take them for granted. But sometimes when Mason yells "No Jesus (as soon as the doors of church open) I feel like I failed. Of course, one of my best friends insists he is actually yelling, "KNOW JESUS." So I nervously chuckle when he says is (I sometimes pretend he's not with me.) Just kidding. The kid has my eyes. He might have my fashion sense. So I'm scared. Obviously...
What you don't know is what's behind the outside view that you can see each of us is struggling. We're all trudging through the day. Sometimes it's easier than others. No one is perfect. Why do we make it so hard on ourselves? It's this impossible race we are running. So lately I've tried to slow things down. Focus on one day at a time and really embrace each second. I've also tried really hard not to compare myself to the "old" me. The one with 6 pack abs that ran 6 miles at 5am without any inkling of what would happen later. I decided to ramp up my workout schedule but not make it harder. I'm actually making it easier. Doesn't make sense you say? No, revolution usually doesn't. I wasn't happy at my gym. So I quit. Yes, me. I quit something. I switched gyms. I was totally shocked working out at the new gym. People actually talk to me. It's all kinds of awesome. So I'm changing everything.
Everyone is encouraging at the new gym. I feel like I can finally let go of the old me. Of the one that pushed until collapse. Because I wasn't helping myself or my family (who incidently do not care how many stairs I climbed or how hard I worked out. ) I found this out the hard way when I had to get reprogrammed two weeks ago.. My heart decided to beat both sides at once (because it's kind of a jerkface) and the new pacemaker wasn't outpacing it. So there I was, shelved again. Bawling. Devestated. Worried all of what I've worked on was gone. So I said the H word. I asked for HELP. My beautiful friend Elma stepped in. My husband came home from a work trip out of town. We set about reprogramming Usain Volt we promised never to overwork him again. ( A promise I can tell you now I'll probably break.) We were able to get it done but things aren't perfect. Show me a human being that doesn't have flaws. So I'm a robot with some glitches. I'm doing my best. And yes, that is good enough. Say it with me..... "I am good enough, I am smart enough, and gosh darnit people like me."
We all have a finite number of minutes in the day. Some days I get things done and I feel on top of it. Dinner is cooked and children are dressed, and bedtime is almost running on time. It feels like Heaven! Other days it feels like I'm running nonstop and forget I put my daughter GIANT BOW on my head and proceeed to run errands all day (and somebody's breakfast ends up being cereal in a cup (on the way to school) and I may or may no have remembered to wash my face and then I catch a glimpse in the mirror. And I think, "Whoa, I really need to get it together." I sometimes yell I'm having a terrible, awful, no good, very bad day and I sometimes threaten to move to Australia. Then I remember this picture I have of my mom when she was about my age. Her hair was messy and she didn't have on makeup. Of course now my mom always looks put together, with her hair and makeup fixed. Then I realize, this is just a stage. It's my yoga pants/ponytail/I'm carrying a cup of coffee with multiple children's bags hanging off me/Don't judge me I haven't lost ANY of my kids stage. Whew. I know I can write a run on sentence like nobody's business. Like all other stages I'll outgrow this one. Maybe. No promises. It's like Picasso's Blue Period, right? Almost...
But if you ask me would I want the Thursday night Varsity dance nights back in exchange for my current life? Hell no. Not for all the high heels in the world. Because nothing is better than my kids realizing I'm working so hard for them. So their homework gets done and they have food, no its not always a great meal. Sometimes it's okay to take shortcuts. We're all trying our best here. No awards for bravery. Just a kid who yells, "Mom, come wipe my butt." Nothing makes me laugh more than that. Because moms all over the world are fighting the struggle. Nothing brings me more happiness than seeing happy, fulfilled kids. No, I don't get it right all of time. Sometimes I'm scrambling all day. Sometimes I don't say the right things to my friends, to my husband, to my kids. But I'm trying my best. Trying not to compare myself between people and to the old me.
I was trying to make my kids realize how much I prayed for them when I was pregnant. So all week I've been listening to, "This Woman's World by Maxwell (Mason's song) and "Come to Jesus" by Mindy Smith (Ava's Song.) These are the songs I listened to when I was worried about my babies. So this week I am listening to them and I'm trying to remember. This too shall pass. And to everyone struggling right now. Trying their best.... Remember.