Disappointment

There was awhile there that I felt ahead of the game. I felt connected to my purpose for being a stay-at-home mother: to support my children and raise them to be the people that God wants them to be, to raise them in a manner that my husband and I had discussed was important to us, to be the familiar face they see day in and day out as Daddy goes to work or as we move from state to state and Daddy eventually goes back to sea, to teach them life's little lessons as they naturally pop up during the day, and to enjoy these years that slip by so quickly. I struggled at times, especially when teething babies kept me awake at night for days or weeks or when sickness swept through our house and I felt overwhelmed, overworked, overtired. I struggled when I felt my husband had an easier load than I did (and he felt the same way about me-- the grass is always greener?). One thing that remained consistent then is that I would say, "I'm struggling today, right now. This is a phase." I felt it in my heart. I didn't want to miss a moment. I wanted to hold on to each day and pull from it every last memory I could, every sticky hug, every wet kiss, every skinned knee I magically healed with momma powers, every squeal of glee when Daddy walked in the door... I loved it. I loved doing it. I loved being there and experiencing the sour infant breath as a baby slept on my chest. I loved rolling my eyes at the arguments of our oldest, a preschooler too big for his britches; his logic makes me laugh out loud.

Lately... lately I'm missing my joy. I catch glimpses and glimmers of my old feelings every now and then. I don't know what it is. I feel like we are always home, always wondering what we should do with our day, always figuring out how to dwindle the long evening hours now that the time has changed and it is too dark (and too mosquito ridden) to play outside. I feel like I miss our old duty station and miss our old friends. I feel like I miss our old calendar that always had something fun to do on it, that sparked our kids' imaginations. I feel like we are always telling them to go to the playroom here at our new house. I feel like too many toys find their way around this new house-- maybe it is the open floor plan-- but I'm constantly tripping on Legos and Duplos and Matchbox cars; it feels cluttered which makes me feel grumpy. I feel far away from my family.

Most of all, I feel like I'm always playing catch up. I'm late to nearly everything I have planned lately. It takes me much longer to get around here than I'm used to. The roads are strange. The way to get places just feels winding. Everything is a trek. I don't know where to run out and get a good lunch with the boys in tow and so I've eaten much more drive-through chicken here than I would care to think about. I feel like I'm playing catch up with my calendar and catch up with my kids. Instead of focusing them in fun activities, I'm breaking up fights and disagreements. Instead of keeping their hands busy, I'm sending them to the other room. Instead of listening to them, I'm telling them to keep it down.

I need a change! I've hit the winter blues early. Having a nagging cold doesn't help. Having toddlers in the exceptionally trying toddler phase hasn't helped (read "Revolution #9"). I feel like each day I'm looking for a break-- when can I catch a break?-- instead of taking control of the day, praying over various aspects of our day, praying over our kids. I need to go back to the basics and stop struggling through these days.

I re-read a blog post I wrote awhile ago called "Marthas and Marys," written after I read When Mother's Pray: Bringing God's Power and Blessing to Your Children's Lives by Cheri Fuller. That's the mom I want to be again.

It is time for a fresh start.