I Threw A Tantrum

Well, there is no other way to start this but to just come out and say it. . . I kind of threw a tantrum today. 

There.  I said it.  I did it.  It’s true. 

I’m calling myself out and admitting it–I threw a tantrum.

Now, mind you, it wasn’t a fall-on-the-ground-kick-my-feet-scream-at-the-top-of-my-lungs-bang-my-fists-to-the-ground type tantrum.  I mean, come on, I do have my pride.  It was more like slow, drip-drip-drip, of tears from an over tired and exhausted Mama who had a moment or two of feeling sorry for herself.

I debated even admitting this, because let me tell you this, if anyone knows how blessed she is–it’s me.  If anyone knows she has no right to complain about anything, really, it’s me.  If anyone knows that she doesn’t really have problems–it’s me. 

But still. . . I’m human and today, I had a moment.  A fairly ugly moment. 

After telling Chad about my extreme exhaustion and how I forget what it’s like to have a conversation with him without hearing the word “Mommy” 27 times, and how I’m not sure I can go one more step, I proceeded to clean–like the martyr I am.  I sat in the middle of Meadow’s floor and picked up toys and clothes that she likes to scatter around her room, for the 43rd time this week, and I cried.

As silent tears were dripping down my face, a tiny, diaper clad little blonde girl walked into the room.  For a moment, Meadow paused and then she walked toward me, nestled herself in my lap and placed her head on my shoulder and patted my back as she hugged me.  There we sat, the two of us together, in silence.  My two year old wrapped herself around me as if to speak without speaking. . . it’s going to be okay.
Why am I admitting this?  I’m not sure, really.  Maybe just to say it–this motherhood thing?  It’s not easy.  It can feel quite lonely at times and the days of dirty diapers, footprints on the floor, fingerprints on the windows, silly squabbles, spilled milk, markers on the wall, mountains of laundry, sleepless nights, and long days seem–unending. 

Honestly, some days I’m certain I’m going to drown in Tide. . . and that’s okay because at least it would be restful sleep.

However, just as I look over fence and see the vibrant green on the other side. . . those tiny arms pat my back and I am brought back to the truth. . .

. . . there is no other place I’d rather be.

Maybe I say all of this as a declaration–to myself mainly–a declaration that says, I am thankful for this moment in my life that, deep down, I understand will one day be a faint memory.  I think that is the key that I need to hold on to.  The key that will ease me through the days that seem endless and thankless.  The days that feel lonely and monotonous.  The days that are a normal part of motherhood.

Okay, enough confession for one day.  Moving on. . .

Hello, December. . . we welcome you. . .

We’ve had our first snow and our first snow day as November ushered in December in the most beautiful of ways.  Snow. . and a lot of it.

Big, fantastic white flakes soared through the air and we drank it up. . .

. . . right along with hot chocolate.  It was really all we needed to get into the Christmas spirit.  With the first snow came the Pandora station belting out Christmas carols nearly all day long.  Deck the Halls and Silent Nights have poured through the house almost nonstop since last week.  (Or a little before–shh, don’t tell Chad.) 

We spent Thanksgiving at my Dad’s with cousins as family gathered together and did Thanksgiving in the way we love to do it. . . simply.  As has become our tradition, we help my Dad decorate his house for the Christmas season.

In other words, we destroy his house, break half the ornaments while the kids place the remaining ornaments on the bottom branches of his tree, and eat all of his food, before returning to our respective homes where this is all “normal”.

By the time we returned home I was feeling the very beginnings of the Christmas Spirit, but I wasn’t completely “there” yet.  Until, that is, we went to cut down our own tree.

Let’s just say. . . we did it in the only way we know how to do it. . .

. . . completely disorganized. 

Yep, wearing heels and a dress, I hiked myself up on a trailer so our family could cut down the most perfect tree.  Let’s just say, we  I got a few stares.  I felt the need to explain to more than a few people. . . I don’t normally wear this to get our Christmas tree–we’re just not good planners. 

Up and down the rows of trees we walked, in search of the most perfect tree.  We had talked about it through chattering teeth on the hay ride back to the field. . . we can probably do a nine foot tree. . .

Chad spotted it first and the gentleman at the farm confirmed it–yep, that’s about nine feet.  We were stoked. . .

Until we got it home and realized it was much, much bigger–12 feet. 

So goes our life. . . imperfect. . .

. . . but beautiful just the same.

Have a wonderful day.  I’m declaring it a “Tantrum Free Day” for me.

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Thank you for hanging with me and my sporadic writing as I wade through the busy season over at SummerK.