So... that is dried up spit up... on my skirt... it's been there for roughly 7 hours 😳
Lately I've been struggling with feeling like my life isn't mine right now. I have so many goals. Ways I'm wanting to work on me, things I'd like to be able to do, projects I'd like to complete, friends and family I'd like to spend time with, but nearly every minute of everyday someone else's needs or goals trump my own. 90% of the time that someone else is one of my little people. I am powerless at taking charge of my own life.
This week's example, I wanted to work on feeling a little more put together. Namely, hair done and a little make up on everyday thinking this would boost my self esteem and motivation. Instead because of the hustle and bustle of life, I rocked an Agatha Trunchbull bun all week long, and I did my make up once. Said make up stayed on my face for 3 days, causing a huge break out by the end of the week. 😕
Which brings us to today. Sunday is my one, non-negotiable, "do your hair and face" day. So I arrived at our stake conference ready to be spiritually fed and feeling beautiful for the first time this week. In the first hour of the meeting, I took the 2 older girls to the bathroom, I nursed Emma under my nursing cover on the pew, Robert took James to the bathroom (he didn't actually have to go), then James proceeded to whine over and over again "I'm tired!" not satisfied until we made enough room for him to lay fully stretched out on the pew with his head resting in my lap where he promptly fell asleep. Within 2 minutes after James finally settled, Emma started fussing to be fed again, so I took her out during the intermediate hymn. There were a few designated "Cry Rooms" where they were broadcasting the meeting so parents dealing with restless kids could still try to watch. So I went into one that was a bit full. I decided maybe Emma wasn't hungry. Maybe she just needed to be burped and then would fall asleep instead. Started to burp her at my shoulder and she looked up at me, turning her head just enough that when she spit up it completely missed the spit rag and got my face, hair, and down the front of my shirt instead (and apparently this undiscovered part of my skirt). I felt pretty NO MORE.
I wiped up the mess as quickly as I could, stubbornly refusing help from a friend, and left that room feeling embarrassed. I went to a different room, this one designated just for nursing moms. This room was much quieter, just me and 3 other moms with our babies. As Emma began to settle, my heart started to open to the peace that was in that room. I looked at Emma and then at the other moms with their babies and received the unmistakable impression...
"There is power here."
This brought me immediately to tears. Grateful, peaceful, soul-rejuvenating tears. Being a mom is often thankless, exhausting, menial, sometimes downright awful work. I get so caught up in the day to day drudgery of it all that I forget the eternal perspective of it. I am a mom. Raising children of God with love. Though imperfect, I am doing my best to raise righteous human beings that will one day change the world for the better. NOTHING is more important than that, and the blessings from doing this work are INNUMERABLE.
"There is power here."
Spit up and all 😉
