It’s been quite easy for me to recently lose focus. As the modern philosophers, Florence and the Machines, would say, “It’s hard to dance with the devil on your back.” And that’s just how I’ve felt, that at every turn, every gasp for air he’s been there, pulling me back down trying to turn me, trying to show me how good jealousy, and greed, and envy can feel. Aside from my recent head issue and subsequent downfall from that, nothing huge or life changing has been happening, just minor things that seem to be falling down around us while it feels like the world is rejoicing and celebrating.
I’ve never wanted to be that person, you know the one I’m talking about, the one who down plays and is bitter about all the happiness other people have, the one who makes excuses or turns green with envy when goodness presents itself to others, but it’s such an easy person to slump into. It’s so much easier to be resentful than it is to be grateful.
But these trials, these adversities, as much as they pain me (literally and figuratively) they are so good for me. My life is messy friends, so messy, and I’m always trying to run around and clean up the proverbial mess instead of just letting it show itself. So, in an effort to save my own sanity and just let it all hang out, I present to you, my mess.
Y’all, most days I feel like I’m sucking at motherhood. And taking developmental psychology (required for my nursing degree) is really making me think that I have royally messed up my child (why did I not take this her first year of life?) She talks back, I give in way to frequently, she still sleeps in my bed 5 out of ten nights, and she loves to talk about poop. When she’s sleep happy, she will literally scream poop/poopy/smells like poopy/some form of the word poop that is not the S word (phew) which is then followed by what literally sounds like insane hysteria. Every Tuesday and Thursday (and every week night I’m up doing homework) I feel like the world’s most selfish person for sending her off to school while I go to school, knowing that if I simply wait a few more years, she’ll be in school full-time anyway, but instead I’m taking away from my time with her to pursue my selfish dream, my ambition. And it makes me feel about an inch tall every.single.time. And every year, around Mother’s Day, I wonder, how many more Mother’s Days I get to be about me, before she starts thinking about Sam* on this day too. Before she starts scheduling the day 1/2 for me, 1/2 for Sam* (and Lord don’t even get me started thinking about her having a Mother-in-Law too). And that’s selfish, and it’s petty, but it’s my mess. But she’s amazing. And she calls me mama. And I may not be the perfect mama, and she may not be the perfect child, but together, we are perfect for each other.
Most days, I’m a pretty junky wife. I don’t cook, I rarely clean, I go to school, I work, I do homework, I spend way more money than I should, and I’m bat poop passionate about things that shouldn’t matter, but this man, he loves me anyway. We’re not the perfectly married couple, we fight, we disagree, we don’t always have the same priorities, but y’all we FIGHT for our marriage, every single day. And when stuff hits the fan, like it has been recently, we lean in on each other instead of drifting apart. This man, he fights like hell for me, and when I’m doing everything in my power to push him away, he pushes right back. We lean in. We fight for each other.
You will not find my house on Pinterest. It’s messy, literally. It’s small. It’s not in a bad part of town, but it’s not in an area that makes headlines. It’s a stucco, tract house. But it’s our home. I used to say that I never wanted people to be able to walk into my house and know I had kids, now, it’s a badge of honor to have an array of toys spread throughout my home. Sure, I wish my tile often had fewer stains on it than it normally does, but man, in six years, we made this house the home we never thought we would. Sure, it’s starting to show wear, and it’s starting to need upkeep, and yes, I would REALLY appreciate it if this could be a gradual process instead of everything giving out all at once, but it’s our home. We came home to this house the day after our wedding, we brought our daughter home from the hospital here. It’s not going to win any awards or be featured in any magazines, but I tell you what, you’d be hard pressed to find a house made more a home than this little 3 bedroom, 2.5 bathroom 1500 square foot piece of paradise.
Most of the time, I’m kind of a junky friend. I mean, I’m the friend that sets up reminders to text friends to follow-up on things important to them. This sounds good in theory, but these are things I should just know. I also have ridiculous expectations, so when I find friends and keep them for more than a few years, you know they’re pretty much the greatest people on the planet.
The kind of people who you should fight like hell to keep, the kind of people you would fight like hell to keep. The kind of people you look at and think, how on earth did I get so dang lucky to be friends with these people.
The kind of people who you don’t have to talk to every day, even every month, you can leave off for a few months while you both do some soul-searching, and then simply reconnect, catch up, and resume friendship like it never paused. These are the friends I have. Friends who honor my insane emotions and love me anyway. I may be able to count the friends I have on two hands, but they’re the kind of friends that I hope and pray my daughter grows up to have.
This is just a piece of my mess, there’s truly so much more to it, I could probably go on for weeks, but this is the piece I’m focusing on because regardless of how messy or ugly it may be, I am incredibly proud and grateful for it.