12 feet fun down the hardwood foyer to the front door sounding more like 100. Children knocking into one another as 4 of the 6 little bodies don't possess adequate balance to run with the stampede. But joy reigns as everyone struggles to hug the 2 legs walking in the front door. Little ones swept up by Daddy first and the taller ones wrap around his waist. The 2 oldest girls immediately launch (practically mid-story) into telling of their day, totally unaware that he can't hear over the other one talking, not to mention the squealing little ones.
For 90 seconds, all the world is right... because Daddy's home.
And after the masses clear, I get my weary hug and "how was your day?" The exhaustion is brought by both parties. He from his day at work. Mine from my work at home.
~~~
This scenerio happens almost every day. Except that after this scene closes, the next several until bedtime are not quite so beautiful. Mostly because of me...
Evenings are hard. They always are. Dads are tired from work and just want to relax with their families. Moms are tired and anxious for the dads to be home, to have some relief-- I mean balance-- of parenting. Kids are... well at my house this is the most crazy time of day. Post nap time they're either fresh and wound up or cranky because they didn't nap well. There tends to be no in-between.
And right now it's the end of July. We've had 8 weeks of summer, 2 of those with daddy out of town, and all my daily schedules (or scheduling attempts) have just plain gotten old. Every last thing grates on my nerves.
"She said I'm gross!!" "Well she said I'm mean!!" They're both right.
"Abby just hit Micah!!" What's new.
I cleaned poop out of the carpet and realized I could probably publish a highly successful YouTube video on how to get poop out of carpet.
Micah dumped an entire waistbasket in the toilet and flushed... flooding our bathroom 10 minutes before our home-group started.
I swept the kitchen and seriously contemplated if one of the children is carrying around a bag of sand that don't know about.
Only 2 of the 6 ate their lunch that I spent 20 minutes preparing.
I tried to order backpacks for the fall and the ones I wanted are gone.
The school supply lists were not posted exactly when I wanted (and thought I needed) them posted.
The kids get into some food in the pantry for the bzillionth time.
Abby finds a pen. AGAIN.
My kids have an unnatural amount of energy.
After a while it all becomes a way bigger deal than it should be. Its painful almost. Mommy is tired and needs a break. Except when this Mommy gets tired she gets irritable. And ugly. And holds unreasonable expectations. So I snap at my poor husband and I snap at my poor kids. But being tired is no excuse. And I know it.
I also know where my help comes from.
I lift my eyes to the mountains-- where does my help come from? Psalm 121:1
But my restoration doesn't start with first day of school pictures, it doesn't require a babysitter, and it doesn't come after our 90 seconds of glory when Daddy comes home.
My help comes from The Lord, the maker of heaven and earth. Psalm 121:2
Being a mom can be such a tough battle ground. But it feels like it shouldn't be. Like on the outside we have this beautiful, sweet task of being good little mothers and by staying at home with our babies and raising them to love Jesus by wearing aprons and heals and singing hymns while we wash dishes.
Meanwhile back in real life, our toddlers are throwing tantrums, our big kids are talking back, we're lucky if we can change out of sweatpants much less put makeup on, and we're pulling out our hair because we've gone "screen free", "gluten free", "dairy free" and any other free you can think of. And I'm only kind of kidding.
In all seriousness, my home is a mission field. There are small people walking around my house every day that NEED Jesus, and 2 new believers that need to be discipled. My home needs to be fortified with prayer as much as it needs to be mopped. Now is not the time to get dementia from summertime "Groundhog Day" (the movie, not the holiday). Now is the time to open my eyes to the spiritual needs of my family and not just the physical.
Not that I can just let the laundry go for 3 weeks and pray instead. My husband needs clean underwear too. But what have I done to BE a helpmate to him this week?
*sigh*
So as summer rolls to a close, I see that busy days lay ahead of homework and packed lunches and ballet practices and carpool and actually- potty training my 2 year old- And I know that I can't grow weary. I can't throw my hands up. The days are going fast and my family needs me to set an example of joy no matter what. They need me to be a strong woman of God who serves with love and with patience.
... For the joy of The Lord is your strength. Nehemiah 8:10
And when Daddy comes home he'll be greeted by 6 wild kids and a wife who is strong and cheerful, with a joy that comes from The Lord alone.
Charm is deceptive and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised. Proverbs 31:30
Lord be my joy and my strength. Remind me hourly to stop and refocus on You. And may my family have all that they need physically and spiritually because of the work of my hands and my heart. In the name of Jesus. Amen.
