Saturday, January 3, 2015

A Mother's Sacrifice

Hello mother out there with the three immaculate kids and the freshly dyed hair, pro makeup, and shiny-shaved legs. I keep thinking I've come to terms with the fact that I'll never be you... but you haunt my thoughts, jumping out to say BOO at the most opportune times.

Like when I haven't showered in three days. Or shaved in a week... And makeup? Are you kidding me.

I never felt like I was cut out for the job. Somewhere, in a box of family memories, lies an old VHS tape of me clearly stating that I would never have kids (at a whopping twelve years old.) Fifteen years later and I now have THREE beautiful offspring. Yet, I still don't feel cut out for the job. Why can't I just get it together? Just when I feel like I might be there, all three kids come down with snotty noses and ear infections, and my husband can't be there due to another family crisis. 

I don't feel sexy. I don't feel lovable. As a matter of fact, I don't feel attractive physically, emotionally or mentally at this point in any way whatsoever. I'm sleep deprived, I'm covered in snot, sweat, and every other bodily fluid that proceeds out of pores and orifaces of all sorts. On the rare day or two out of the year that I do manage to pull myself together and look halfway presentable... the volley of comments is overwhelming. "Well, you look nice today!" "I just love when you fix your hair." "Wow, you clean up well." 

Something inside tells me that I'm supposed to be grateful and feel better. But I'm not and I don't. Actually, it makes me feel like even more of a failure that other 363 days out of the year. 

I know my husband loves me, but he misses that flirty, fun twenty year old. The girl with no cares, no worries, hardly any responsibilities, and no extra fluff on her stuff. 

But do these things really make me a bad mom? Am I really a failure at this job title I've been given? I feel like I am, but I look at three gorgeous mini-me's and I know that I'm not. They are fed, they are loved, and they are happy. I have sacrificed myself to the point of tears, but it is not in vain. I'm serving children of the King. I may struggle through these years on my hands and knees, but these small humans - these souls - they don't care about fat rolls, deoderant, and eyelashes. They care about those bedtime stories, those extra swings on the swingset, the snuggles in my arms, and the sweet assurance of a secure marriage, between their mom and dad, that is founded on Jesus - despite all other circumstances. 

I may fumble through the world's standards of a pinterest-perfect, facebook worthy mom, but I am doing the best I can through the strength of God - and that IS good enough.