Crunch, crunch, crunch.
It was the sound of my trio and me leaving the house before the sun rose on a Tuesday morning. And that glorious crunch-crunch-crunching? It was my wedges walking along a sea Cheerios scattered on my kitchen floor.
I had one kid on my hip telling me he was “HUNGEEEE” (while simultaneously holding a snack cup of – you guessed it – Cheerios). I was pretty much dragging another kid out of the house while he threw a tantrum because the seam on his sock was crooked. Yelling back at kid #3 to grab her lunchbox and make sure the dang cat didn’t escape.
I took a deep breath, knowing I’d come home in 13ish hours to a sea of smashed Cheerios, half-eaten breakfasts on the table and a dishwasher that needed to be emptied.
“THE DAYS ARE LONG BUT THE YEARS ARE SHORT AND ONE DAY YOU’LL MISS THIS AND IT WON’T BE LIKE THIS FOR LONG.”
I said in my head, as we blared Taylor Swift on repeat and sped to the boys’ preschool. I kissed them and basically threw them in the front door before my daughter and I navigated traffic to get to the elementary school where she attends and I teach.
The bell rings at 7:20 a.m. for my third graders to come into my classroom, and by the time I see them I feel like I’ve already run a marathon.
And lost.
My alarm goes off at 4:44 a.m. each weekday morning. I find a little quiet time for Jesus. Get myself ready, get all three kiddos up, dressed, and breakfast’d. Find matching shoes, comb down cowlicks, straighten sock seams, and get us all out of the door. The boys are at preschool and I’m in my classroom preparing to greet my 21 eight-year-olds no later than 7:15 a.m.
And y’all, I am so tired.
I am (obviously) a single mama, going at it alone. With three tiny humans who depend on me for all the things. And then a classroom full of students who also depend on me for almost all the things, six hours a day.
Lately, I’ve felt like I am giving everything, but also not enough.
The day of the sea of crushed Cheerios (which, is basically every morning), I had an appointment with my therapist. I kid you not, as I used the bathroom in her office before my appointment, I realized my dress had been on backward ALL DAY LONG.
And…there were three Cheerios inside of my bra.
I collapsed on her couch and before either of us could speak I was basically sobbing.
“WHAT AM I DOING!? AND HOW DO I DO THIS!? I AM SO TIRED! SOMEONE HELP ME! CAN I PLEASE HAVE A HUG AND A GLASS OF WINE AND 14 STRAIGHT HOURS OF UNINTERRUPTED SLEEP?! MAYBE ALSO A CUPCAKE AND A BINGE OF A NETFLIX SERIES?”
I hate to sound all woe-is-me, because the truth is, I am happy. I know that probably sounds crazy, but I really am. After a devastating time in my life, I fought long and hard to get to this place of happy. I feel strong and brave and fulfilled and proud of me and yes – happy.
But Lord, I am just so tired and I cannot figure out how to make all of the puzzle pieces of my life fit together right now. It’s like I am giving and giving and giving and often feel like I am failing and failing and failing. Well, maybe failing is an exaggeration…maybe it’s more like I feel like it is not enough, not enough, not enough.
My therapist and I talked at length about all of it. We discussed where I can give myself more grace, remove some pressure, and allow myself to take some things off of my plate. Which balls am I trying to juggle that are okay to just let drop?
And while there isn’t a whole lot of wiggle room in terms of what I can allow myself to “let go of” right now, we did find some tiny things to adjust.
Including switching to paper plates.
So maybe this is just a paper plate season?
A season where I order a little more pizza and become regular-ish in the Chick-Fil-A drive-thru. One where I ask for and accept help.
A season with messes, always. Cheerios on the floor and in my bra and dresses on backward, all day long.
A season where dinner is served on paper plates most days. Where I allow myself to be selfish in the nooks and crannies when possible. And I give myself grace and forgiveness in each fleeting moment.
A season I remember that it is just that – a season.
I’m love cliches and quotes and encouragement. But sometimes reminding me to “enjoy it while I can” doesn’t always bode well for my sanity.
Because y’all, I AM TIRED. And really, the word “tired” doesn’t even begin to describe the bone-aching exhaustion I have felt over the past three months since school started back.
I can pretty much guarantee I am not the only mama out there doggy paddling to stay alive.
Whether single or married, big kids or little, one child or seven (Godspeed, my friend)…each season brings with it its peaks and valleys. But I was reminded after shaking the Cheerios out of my bra and turning my dress around is this whole being-a-mama-gig is basically one phase, one stage, one season after another. With seasons come endings and beginnings, changes and new experiences, missteps, and growth, learning and lots and lots and lots of praying.
So for now, I’ll do my best to soak in each precious moment. There are plenty of precious moments that are sprinkled in all of my chaotic days. And I’ll also allow myself to cry sometimes because it is just so hard. And to laugh at the insanity that is my current season of life. Lose my patience sometimes, but always apologize. To pour another glass. To sometimes leave the smashed Cheerios on the floor for many, many, many days.
And, if it means surviving this season – to almost always serve dinner on paper plates.
