Had a WONDERFUL Thanksgiving week. Saturday night, I began my Sunday preparation. I put a load of clothes in the washing machine. I sat on the couch and winded down. I put that load in the dryer and put another load in the washer. I eventually fell asleep before putting the wet clothes in the dryer. When I awoke, I set my alarm for 6:15AM and then went to bed. I woke up with my alarm clock. It is then when I realized that I forgot to put the clothes in the dryer.
Why is that important you ask? Because they were my son’s clothes. My son whose mother was coming this morning to pick up him after his week-long stay.
My plan was to go to 8 o’clock service. Do you see the problem yet?
I move frantically: folding clothes, getting my toddler her breakfast, running behind my eight year old to make sure he doesn’t forget anything, trying to eat my oatmeal, getting the toddler dressed, stating again for the umpteenth time the morning routine for my son (brush your teeth, wash your face, lotion your face and your body before dressing etc), chasing the toddler down after each morning routine activity (because she thinks all finished means I am completely finished), and deciding whether or not I have enough time to shower myself or is it just a brush teeth and wash face type of morning. My son who is always awake before the sun, was still asleep. Because I didn’t realize he wasn’t up yet, he was just getting ready to eat when he should have been going upstairs to get dressed. To make matters more interesting, the pick up that was originally estimated to be at 9:30 that morning turned into 8:30.
It was just ugly.
I met his mother at church. My son was packed up an didn’t forget anything (which is a miracle). There was a tearful goodbye between the sibling pair and then the toddler and I walked into church…30 minutes late.
(I’ve had rough mornings before. Compared to all the rough mornings I’ve had during married life, this was an easy day but it was so hard. I was tired. I was tired of having to run the gauntlet every other Sunday morning by myself. To get my toddler fed, dressed, and ready for church is easy. To get my toddler and myself fed, dressed, and ready for church is not. To get my toddler, my 8-year-old, and myself fed, dressed, and ready for church is tiring. To get my toddler, my 8-year-old, my 7-year-old, my 12-year-old, and myself fed, dressed, and ready for church is a marathon. Yes, my big kids do for themselves but they ALL need reminder after reminder after reminder of what needs to be done to get ready in the morning. (Maybe I should get a bull horn))
I was exhausted. I didn’t want to be there. I would have liked nothing better than to go back home and sit on the couch and let my toddler run and play.
I sat in service just disgusted. I was dirty (I didn’t have time for a shower this morning. I took one last night but I had night sweats so there went that. I didn’t wash my face either. I was picking sleep from my eyes during prayer), I had yet another thrown together outfit on so I didn’t feel pretty at all, and I was late.
It is hard to praise God when you feel like crap. I sat in service and prayed. I thanked God for getting me to church. I also asked Him to help me. Being an bonus mom is rough. There are many layers and levels of rough stuff that you experience on the journey. Everything does not appear at once.
I’ve heard that I make being an bonus mom look easy. It’s not. Great belly dancers make it look easy when in truth, it took hard work to get there. It’s the same thing being an bonus mom. It takes work and just like being a Mommy, it takes work even when you are tired and you think you’ve done enough. But just like in Mommyhood, I’d do it again, and again, and again.