While Luke slept much better through the night last night (I almost got a whole 6 hours of sleep!), he is struggling today, for one reason or another. Even more than usual I mean. Here's what my day has consisted of:
Giving the kids a rushed breakfast of cold cereal, changing poopy diapers and pee-soaked clothes, starting a load of dirty toddler sheets and towels (since we don't have a single one clean) and hoping Dave can finish it when he gets home since I don't have time, quickly making PB&J sandwiches for lunch (for me AND my kids) so I can get back to taking care of a crying Luke, and being a human pacifier in between as I daydream of taking a shower and being clean...all while my eyes and ears are tortured by Caillou and Martha (PBS Kids) so that my older kids are occupied and not getting into trouble.
And though I sit here most of the day--in my PJ's and still without a brush being ran through my hair--consoling a needy, uncomfortable baby (even as we speak) while trying to stay awake and trying not to long for more glorious things, I don't allow myself to believe that my situation sucks, that my life is meaningless, or that I'm accomplishing nothing, like much of society would view it.
Instead, I know I could be doing nothing better, and that the sacrifices I and other mothers make are greater than any shower, perfectly clean house, or even a book contract with the most prominent publisher I could dream to snag. I know that, and am so grateful to have this privilege of unsightly, yet beautiful, motherhood...
...Even as I sit here nursing the baby for the third time in the last hour (one-hand typing...oh yeah!), and smelling the overflowing kitchen trash a few feet behind me. Ew.