when the day is bad...

it's really bad.

I have moments now as a mom of two when I wonder how moms actually manage to have energy for more than 2. I mean, I'm not a super-woman, but I do like to think I have some capacity for stress.

But days like yesterday... and nights like last night...must surely get struck from the mommy-brain record for any woman contemplating adding even more chaos (I mean charming children, of course) to her life. I don't mean to leave out dads here, but I'm gonna go out on a socio/bio/culturally-tenuous limb here and suggest moms of infants have a need for greater emotional and physical capacity than dads. There, I said it. :)

So, let me get to the point I'm making. I love my children with a fiercer love than I imagined possible, but they also push me to my sensory limits. When the day is great- I am the most blessed mom around. But when the day is bad, it's really bad.

Any moms out there feel me on this?

I love documenting the beautiful, poignant, cherished moments in my life (you know, the ones that show up in my newsfeed), but I also feel it's fair to record the not-so-instagram-worthy ones, because a one-dimensional existence just doesn't suit us humans.

To what moments do I refer, you ask with curiosity?

The moment when my two-year-old insists on repeating, "mommy, mommy, mommy," enough times that my gentle, "what is it, sweetie?" and "I'm listening, buddy" turns into a sort-of-mean-spirited "What, Briggs!" followed by his innocent dimpled grin and my ensuing mommy-guilt for losing my cool on a child who adores me.

The moment when my sweet, 7 week-old baby has cried for one-too-many-hours while the rest of the world sleeps, and I begin to contemplate if it would really be so terrible just to hear her scream while I lay in bed.

The moment when my two-year-old is whining, only to turn around and find his own mother crying harder than he, because life is just too overwhelming.

The moment when I direct all my frustration and anger at my husband, despite his doing nothing wrong, because he's the only human around I feel can handle the tumultuous emotion of my life.

These moments are not my shining joy as a mother or wife, but they are the moments that make me human. And I express them in full recognition that it's not socially-acceptable to admit fault publicly; I do believe strongly, however, that it's theologically right to do so.

Because we have a God who envelops our troubles, who asks us to cast our cares at the feet of Jesus, who takes on the selfless role of guiding us up the steep parts of our journey.

Because I believe in a God who takes all our moments, even the icky ones, and  invites us to see them as parts of a greater whole. I believe that one day, with the help of God, I will look back on yesterday with a certain kind of gratitude, because even those intolerable moments are fashioning this family into God's likeness. We are a family that sees one another through the grime, so one day the glorious moments might shine even brighter.

I suppose there's further musing that could be offered regarding this truth and the state of the world right now, but please excuse this sleep-deprived mom while I sign off and pour another cup of coffee.

Here's a pic of me, holding it together just enough to write about how I'm not really holding it together.