It’s 9:30 pm and I just received a text from Shannon.
“Just wondering if you are working on your post for tomorrow?”
Oh. Um. Yep! That’s what I’m doing! I’m definitely not watching HGTV and eating ice cream.
Except yes I was.
I haven’t really shared here in this space about what our family is going through. We are a military family and my husband is currently deployed. I write about our deployment journey at Kids VT so if you want the full story, you can read about it there under Home Front: Diaries from a Vermont military family.
Needless to say five months of this has got me all screwed up. I don’t forget things. And yet I am. I don’t have a dirty house. Ha! Go ahead and come over to see proof of that one going awry. I cook from-scratch, healthy meals almost every night for dinner. I’m now good friends with Marie Callender. (She makes a mean chicken pot pie.)
This is simply a result of this time of life we are in. It’s a stage. I remember the last time I was in a stage like this. Rewind seven years ago, I had a five year old, a two year old and a newborn. There wasn’t even a mind left to know something was absent. We made it through and things became clear again. We found a new normal and adjusted quickly. And when My husband returns home, we will do it again.
It happens all the time in the life of a mother. We’re professional jugglers. Sometimes the balls are dropping left and right and sometimes we dare onlookers to throw in a flaming torch in an “I’ve so got this” moment.
Motherhood is most definitely a circus act. It doesn’t matter what stage of life you are in or your current struggle; life gets out of hand sometimes. Whether we are the juggler or the audience member, it’s how we handle the dropped balls that seems to matter the most. I’ve needed a large amount of grace from the people around me and it’s teaching me to give grace in return. When I see a frazzled mother do something I disapprove of I’m less likely to judge. I just don’t know what the hour before hand looked like, do I? I don’t know what is happening at home. What made her drop that ball today? It doesn’t matter. What matters is that we clap and encourage instead of gasp at the sight of a mistake. What matters is that we pick up that ball and start over.
If you see me drop a ball during my juggling act, please be a dear and pick it up for me. Gently toss it back and I’ll probably catch it. Just keep the flaming torches for now. A girl’s gotta know her limits. Even in the circus.
