You may have seen me at church this past Sunday, looking relatively put together, wearing a good necklace, with my cute Starbucks mug in hand. Well, just in case you ever see me and wonder how I manage to be so effortlessly gorgeous and confident all the time (ha...not), I'm going to give you a peek behind the scenes.
When all you see are other moms who somehow have their hair perfectly curled and their lipstick perfectly applied, it can start to feel like you're the only one who goes through a full-on battle just to get to the car on a Sunday morning. But you're not the only one. I promise.
So, here's a lighthearted and completely truthful look at a typical Sunday morning in my life.
The photo to the left is how Clara feels when she is greeted first thing in the morning by being speed-dressed, nursed for three minutes, and asked "Do you need to nurse more? Is that enough? Are you sure?!?!" all while Judah sits beside her crying continously. He loudly insisted "No go church/pants not fit Judah/stay home with Mama/it's ok Judah/I CRYING I CRYING", even though his pants DID fit and the fact that he was crying really didn't need to be announced, as it was fairly obvious. His intermittent attempts to reassure himself ("It's ok, Judah, ") were pretty adorable, though.
Having fed my child and myself a well-rounded breakfast of two different types of toast- peanut butter, and regular butter- and done my makeup while Judah watched yet another episode of Clifford, we were now all mostly dressed.
I snapped a photo because Clara's outfit was cute, but the photo didn't do it justice because life was too crazy in that moment to worry about cute photos. And by crazy I mean that I was fumbling with the clasp on my necklace while looking around for my shoes and saying, "Judah, have self control over your voice and use words to tell me how you feel. Do you want to wear the scarf or not? It's up to you. No, we cannot take playdough in the car." I got Clara bucked into her carseat, the picture of calm bewilderment and the height of bulky sweater fashion.
Then it was simply a matter of hoisting the diaper bag, my purse, all 25-ish pounds of baby/carseat combo, and my coffee into one arm while I locked the front door with the other hand, without taking my eyes off of Judah to ensure that he didn't fall down the steep cement stairs.
So I carried him down the stairs in one arm like a 35-pound sack of potatoes, if a sack of potatoes could shout "Toast, toast!" while trying to snatch my gourmet meal out of my mouth. We were both literally running to the car when Judah fell down, so I hunched over at a weird angle to help him up without making Clara fear for her life. As I did this I also spilled that precious coffee all over myself...meanwhile, Clara was still just waiting for someone to say good morning to her.
Cue the careful race against time to wipe the coffee off before it set in to the white stripes of my tshirt, while keeping my eyes on Judah to ensure he was out of the way of moving vehicles, and trying to keep the sun out of Clara's eyes- because seriously, didn't she have enough to deal with already?
As always, by the time we were all in the car and I was running through my mental checklist to make sure I had everything, I was ready to sleep for about three hours. Sometimes the greatest struggle is choosing to drive to church instead of having group naptime in the car. We persevered. Judah and I talked through the fact that he was going to the nursery but Mama would be right back, and Clara and I talked through the fact that she was the most patient child I had ever met and I was eternally thankful for her flexibility in these moments of craziness.
But we made it to church!
But we were thirty minutes late. Honestly, I didn't even feel bad. Because some days that is the best I can do. I used to be so embarrassed walking in late, worrying what others were thinking. But you know what, I get up early and I hurry to get us out the door on time, and sometimes- MOST the time, even- it doesn't happen.
Will it get easier at times? Absolutely. Will it get harder at other times? Yes. But for now I will not be fearful as I walk in late with my cup of coffee, some coffee on my shirt, and sometimes a headache, because I know that I am working hard and doing my very best, and that needs to be enough for now. Because folks, getting a toddler and a baby and yourself out the door solo on a Sunday morning is not for that faint of heart, and I can't pretend that I'm perfect.
It wouldn't work. I'm OBVIOUSLY not perfect. But God's word is powerful in my imperfect heart, and it is good to surround myself with believers and truth no matter how crazy it may be to get there.
Yes, I'm often late to church. It's not because I don't care. I do care, quite a lot, which is why I'm there regardless of how hard it can be to show up! Sometimes late, sometimes with crying children, sometimes with visible sweat on my brow. But I'm there.
So mamas, please remember: Sometimes things are ridiculous and ridiculously hard, but you can do it. You are not the only one muscling your way through ridiculous, hard things. And it's ok to show up sweaty, overwhelmed, and smelling of spilled coffee- because none of us are perfect, and you don't need to pretend that you are.
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