I'm failing. It's 9am this morning and I am already failing.
Zach woke up early at 4:45am and since I am trying to get into working out and running again, I decided to go for a short run after nursing him. Tired and super sore, I failed to even run 2 miles at 5:30am. I had to stop and walk for a minute in the middle because I am too out of shape and fat.
Yep, I am fat. All of those who think I look "back to normal" haven't seen me naked. And on the rare occasions when I do try and squeeze into my jeans, I cover the muffin top with a big t-shirt or flatter my waist with spandex that suck it all in.
I laid that issue down at the Lord's feet last night in prayer. On my knees, in the yard, laying it down but already discouraged by it all by 9am. Can't even complete 2 miles like I did on Tuesday night.
Failing.
Brooklyn off and going to school and Cayleigh and Morgan are up and running too early and already bickering. I snap at them both, of course, because I am tired and completely over it.
Failing.
Cayleigh poops herself a little bit before making it on the toilet because for the last few days she has had problems and soft stool and who knows why. That has always been an issue for my girls. Accidents. And it is a huge insecurity of mine about them because of how many times it has happened in public, long after they are potty trained. Ugh. Maybe they do it because I turn into Medusa each time. I completely HATE potty accidents. Did I mention this is long after they are potty trained? Like Cayleigh is nearly 5.
I spank her and yelled at her because I HATE potty accidents and yes, I realize that this is the worst thing to do, but did I mention that she is almost 5?
Failing.
It's before 9am and we are at the park, playing. It's crazy early to be at a park already playing, but we are here so that I can breathe some fresh air and not feel like a referee trapped in the confines of a house that desperately needs the baseboards cleaned and grout bleached.
I am holding Zach because I feel guilty about making him sit in his carseat any longer. We drive here, we drive there. Shop, bus stop, in the carseat. It clicks into the stroller. Carseat.
He's such a good, chill boy about it though. He never complains. But I am holding him and yawning and sore. I have 4 kids ages 7 and under, I'm tired. I'm sure I look tired.
Other moms don't tell me I look tired. They just give me compliments when my hair is actually down and I have something on other than running shorts and a t-shirt. I wear running shorts because I am fat. Sweeter terms: not back to normal
It doesn't last long though and Cayleigh and Morgan are arguing again about something. Oh, which one made it down the slide faster, go figure. Yelling. I am now yelling for them to get in the car, we are done playing at the park. I'm over it! So, over it!
Failing. It's 9am and I am failing.
Satan has a way of attacking when you want so badly to be positive. When you are trying to get back into shape, but you're tired. When you are trying to not get mad, but your child keeps having accidents. Oh, I almost forgot about last night...
I like to call evenings, "WHEN WORLDS COLLIDE"
The little, hungry people in the house go cranky all at once. "I'm literally making dinner right now. It's almost ready and then we will eat."
Last night: while making dinner, Morgan pees herself and on the carpet. Ah yes! How could I forget? She is crying upstairs while I am cooking, holding Zach because he is getting hungry and I get to leave the splattering sausage on the stove, lay him down for him to cry louder and feel around on the floor as Morgan points to random spots that she thinks she peed at.
WHY ARE YOU CRYING??? I should be the one crying. I am tired and hungry and now have pee on my hands feeling all over the carpet. Yep, found it. Wet hands. I'm tired and hungry, but I can't eat because I've got to feed everyone else first. The little, hungry people in the house.
All I really want is a giant cheeseburger and a coke. But, I'm fat. No cheeseburger and coke. Water. Drink water and try to cut down the number of crying children in the house.
The crying. Oh, my word, the crying! I can't believe I have written this much in this post and not mentioned crying. Someone is always crying. The sock is bumpy in my shoe. Crying. I peed myself. Crying. She's not sharing the baby doll. Crying.
I can't stand crying! It drives me nuts! Yelling. I usually end up yelling to stop the crying. But, it's not very effective and so more crying because I'm yelling.
Failing.
I shall try harder tomorrow.
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
Lamentations 3:22-23
