Join the club.
Pull up a spoon and let's dig into this Ben + Jerry's.
I felt like SUCH a failure this morning.
Three loads of laundry were bunched up in the laundry room. And although clean, they weren't folded and their 5-day old creases seemed to be mocking me.
I felt like I earned a couple "good mom/wife" points as I completed another five loads.
But their folded status? Eh...it's honestly all piled up on my bed like a huge mountain I don't wanna climb.
(And no, Miley, I don't feel like climbing today.)
Then the fun got kicked off when Charlotte bit Aiden. Let's just say mama wasn't havin' it.
So, consequences were dealt out (You wanna whine and cry about what YOU did to your brother? Fine. Go sit on your bed. I'm not getting a headache due to your ridiculousness. Oh? What's that Charlotte? Wanna continue the theatrics? Great. Then no 'bear ribbons'. Important side note: 'bear ribbons' is our term-of-endearment for C's blankie that she almost cannot go to bed without).
Per usual, mama wasn't playin'.
At this point, Landon (4) had talked me into playing a game of trouble. Aiden (1) was an arms length away in his high-chair flailing his arms and squawking because I couldn't deliver the vanilla yogurt to his little mouth fast enough. Repeatedly.
Meanwhile, Miss Charlotte (3) had gained her self-control and was busy coloring a Beauty + The Beast page while emphatically stating things every 2 seconds like: "Mama wook!" "Mama, I color Belle yew-oh!" "Mama! I make it wook supa pretty!"
It got ugly real quick. I started yelling. I would calm down, and then repeat like a complete psychopath.
I told the kids I was wrong for yelling (amongst throwing a near 29-year-old-temper-tantrum) and asked for their forgiveness. Like the sweeties they are, they promptly forgave and hugs were given all around.
However, I couldn't take back my words.
The nasty tone of my voice, the way my words spewed from gritted teeth. There would be no wiping this from their memories.
I tucked them all in for their afternoon naps, snuggles given, a calm, more relaxed, but remorseful mom who kissed her kiddies and told them she loved them.
"What a horrible mom" I thought as I left their rooms.
I just wanted to run away in seclusion. Feeling completed depressed and fully convinced I was a failure of a mom, I just sulked into the couch hoping my Instagram feed would distract me for a second.
Instagram failed me, so a threw my phone down on the couch, partially annoyed with it, mainly frustrated with myself.
Really Laura? Really?
I felt a little nudge. Maybe you should try reading the Word.
Whatever, God. I'm not in the mood.
Nice. Good pastor's wife, eh?
I got myself out stuff to make a breakfast burrito and switched on the Bible on audio.
As Romans chapters 1-3 played, my heart softened.
I felt God's peace and presence wash over me. I was reminded of God's goodness and how His love never fails.
Even for a sometimes-screw-up like me.
So. Much. Grace.
I am just so longing to be able to consistently extend that grace, especially to my kids.
I mean, as much fun as a crazy, yelling, psycho mom can be...I think I'd like to leave her at the curb and replace her with loving, fun mom.
We all feel like failures sometimes. And sometimes, we even play the part real well.
I hope I keep listening to that Voice of reason and love, wooing me to come to the Fountain of Life, for Water that will never leave me thirsty again (John 4:13-14).
I know that's where I must go to be filled, and to be able to pour out anything of beauty.
Through Unspeakable Joy,