I love my darlings with a passion.
But blame it on the hormones, the 7-day sleep deprivation or the fourth change-up in medications…
I. AM. TOAST.
Truth be told, I haven’t been creative or intentional or scheduled.
I have pretty much just shown up.
Sure, I rallied for the little guy’s birthday.
We partied. We over-indulged. We ate every kind of refined sugar you can imagine.
I even splashed water on my face at 9:30 p.m. so I could write a “Happy Birthday” blog, because heaven forbid that twenty years later he laments that I did one for Grace but not for him. Seriously deranged, I know. But hey, that’s what moms do.
And then Tuesday came, the most heinous sugar crash of 2014.
Imagine “The Walking Dead” mashed up with a heavy smattering of REO’s (Random Emotional Outbursts.)
It all culminated in a weeping fest at the bottom of the stairs, me included. Someone sobbed, “What is going on???” And I through my tears answered back, “It was the donuts and the cookies and the cake…” To which led another to say, “I HATE DONUTS!!!!”
“Me too, baby, me too…”
Sob. Sob. Sob.
But oddly enough, in that moment, all I could think was how much I wanted ANOTHER DONUT!
And then came Wednesday, where I spent two hours on the phone with my darling little insurance company.
As any mama knows, more than 5 minutes on the phone, you might as well be asking for Armageddon.
Toy bombs exploding everwhere. Sibling smackdowns galore. And multiple incidents of, shall we say, less than stellar bathroom hygiene.
And all I could do was watch, y’all.
That combined with two hours of, “One second, Sophie, I mean Grace…er, no I am not talking to you sir…wait, what was the question?” and I was certifiable. So when I transferred to yet another darling, I just laid it all on the line,
“Sister, this is not your fault. Please hear me when I say that. But after eight months of this cray cray mess, I am done. I am hormonal, sleep deprived, fuzzy-brained and holding on to my sanity with a spaghetti noodle, so if this doesn’t get resolved today, it will not end well.”
Two minutes later…
“The claims are being processed as we speak.”
(Crazy lady gets RESULTS, BAM.)
But even as I hung up the phone, I prayed a heap of chocolate, coffee and love over that sweet girl. What in the world, Sara? Sanity and a spaghetti noodle?
Maybe at the very least, Jesus, she can have an awesome story for the water cooler?!?
And where the hoot is a donut???
Which brings us to today…
And my realization that is quite mercifully bringing Spring Break 2014 to a close…
Moms. Show. Up.
Even when we are exhausted and sick and overwhelmed.
Even when our hearts hurt, our brains are mush and our tanks are running on empty.
Even when our world is falling apart and every moment is spent fighting the lump in our throats.
Moms. Show. Up.
It is that quiet perseverance that might go unnoticed by the world but means everything to the people for whom we show up.
The boo-boos. The late-night feedings. The baths.
The coughs. The colds. The fevers.
The laundry. The nose-wiping. The hand-holding.
The tantrums. The shouting. The singing.
The dressing. The bathroom breaks. The spills.
And even the cry-fests at the bottom of the stairs.
It all counts.
So if at any moment you feel less than, remember it is easy to show up, to persevere, to do it all when you are rested and fresh and clear-headed. But it takes a champion to show up even when everything else is falling apart.
Now mamas, raise your coffee, your donut or whatever else gets you through the day and say it the hoot with me…
“Here’s to showing up!!!”