Thursday, October 18, 2012

I've gone done it.
I've hit a wall.
I go, go, go, go, go, go, go and then BAM!
There it is.  All up under my grill.
And I comically slide down it, my cheek scraping the brick
as I crumble sloppily to the ground below, 
where I lie in a heap.
Lovely image, isn't it?
It's so easy to do, as a mom.
We push our limits WAY too often.
Hyper bursts of energy that fuel us for weeks, 
until we run out.
Maybe ending in illness, extreme fatigue, irritation, depression,
binge eating.  Whatever it is.
It happens to the best of us.
The commitment to overdoing it, whittling us down,
catch up, eventually.
And in the midst of that, 
we're raising children.
If I have to listen to one more kid chewing like a cow,
slurping like a pig,
snorting snot up his nose (which I've been listening to since mid-August,)
the never-ending barrage of questions, requests, demands. . .
Some days?
I've had it.  Enough.
I want to run to the mother effing hills.
Flicking off everyone as I run, ungracefully, of course,
tripping over my own feet to get the H outta' here,
towards said mountains.
(I'm picturing Kesha in a drunken rage, only it's squat, lil' old me, minus the killer eye make-up, punk hair and bad ass mini skirt.)
I'm in sweat pants, NO make-up, no bra.  (I really don't need it.) Yikes.
The mother version.  You get the point.
But I can't leave.  I'm mom.
So I stay.  I HATE to complain about mothering.
I KNOW I have SO, SO much to be thankful for.  And I am.
So I stop there.  Gently reminding myself how lucky I am to be where I'm at.  How good I have it.  My kids are healthy.  Happy.  And here.
So I peel myself off the floor and do what any moderately insane mother does. . .
take a bath.
With Eckhart.
"Tear free?"  Hah!
"Calming babies before bedtime?"
How about "tired mommy's mid-afternoon on a Tuesday?"
I allow my limbs to sink heavy like the bricks that took me out.
And just lay there.
Breath.  Analyze.  Ponder.  Reflect.
How did I get here?
It doesn't take long for me to answer that.
When I'm OVER-connected to my computer?  To FB?  For weeks on end?  OVER-whelmed by kids?  Work?  Family life?  I feel helpless.  When I feel helpless?  I give up.  When I give up?  I get lazy.  When I get lazy?  I don't move.  When I don't move?  I eat whatever.  When I eat whatever?  I feel like crap.  When I feel like crap?  I don't take care of myself.  When I don't take care of myself?  I want to hide.  Isolate myself.  Leave me alone.  But again, I can't.
My inquiring mind is quickly distracted by the body that stretches out before me.
The stretch marks, cellulite, random hairs, 
sorry, pathetic, 12-year-old boy breasts, 
my belly button, which is more like the Grand Canyon.
How did I get HERE?!
Not the best moments to be introspective and examine.  When you're tired.
And this place too, well, I know how I got here.  
So how do I slow my pace?
How do I accept and love where I'm at in this moment?
Breathe.  Bring my mind back to the present,
to what matters.
To what I DO have.
Health.  Strength.  Choices.  Not "battle scars" from fighting a war,
but from mothering children.  
Every stretch, pull and plumping of extra skin, worth every second.
Watching the rise and fall of the sudsy water to each breath I take, 
trying to find that peace, gratitude and patience that I know is always there waiting to be picked up.
That reminds me of a few things. . .
1.  I have a husband, who if every 3-4 months, I say,
"I'm going to bed.  At 6p.m. tonight.  You got this?"  As I survey the landscape of our messy living room, unfed children, backpacks and lunches to pack. . .
And he'll do it. 
2.  Grateful that I have had the strength to complete 60 days of Insanity (contributing to my exhaustion, thank you,) which, literally was insane.  But taught me, it's going to take more than 60 days to reshape this not-so delicious body.  And I have to be okay with that.  And work even harder.
3.  Appreciate that, despite my major shortcomings,
I know who I am at 34.  That I have an ample amount of confidence (most days,) that I can do anything I set my mind to.  And the ability to back off when I can't.
And of course, more than anything,
4.  Thankful for all the ordinary days.  Full of ordinary moments that string together to make a beautiful life.
One I wouldn't trade for ANYONE'S.
Filled with sleepy weekend mornings where beds go unmade,
to cozy sleepover evenings (in big sister's bed.)
Rainy Fall days indoors.
 Stopping to smell the roses.
(i.e.  clean post-bath babes.)
Or having those mindful moments,
where I say to hell with all of it.
Pick up the sweetest little man,
and go for a hike in the woods.
Getting lost in the trees.  
Connecting with nature.
My best medicine.  
Where I'm always reminded to slow down, be present and reassured everything is okay.
That even though some days in my motherhood are downright ugly,
even mean,
and patience are always there for the taking.
Most importantly, gratitude for this life and choice I have to let go of the unnecessary and savor the good stuff.




Unknown said...

Beautiful. As always. "The Power of Now" is one of my favorite books. Life changing.

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