Halloween has come and gone and I've been in a flurry of November glory. Reflecting on places of gratitude and thankfulness, especially about God's plans and the adventure we were on earlier this year with trusting and North Dakota and His great giving and taking away of things. And I've been enjoying fluttery open windows in our Texas autumn and cooking up steamy, warm comfort from-scratch things in my crock pot.
But even in the few and fleeting moments I have had for reflection and beauty, I still see where I have this tendency to get in a rush this time of year. The calendar goes from zero to sixty in no time with holidays and special events and lists of things to-do, to-buy, to-cook, to-get-done. I usually find myself getting caught in the middle of wanting to do everything and knowing that I can't. Finding a "balance" or whatever it is that you're supposed to find so that it appears that you're both managing it all and not doing it all at the same time.
And seriously, I say no to things all the time. Just ask the children's ministry director at my church. I'm not one of those people that over-commits to things and signs up for every Bible study or group. We have one weekly function mid-week. Yet there is still so much on my plate and my mind and my heart.
Thanksgiving planning - I'm hosting this year (which I'm crazy-excited about). Christmas cards. Christmas presents. Poppy's birthday party. Gramma moving into a new house. The second job across town. Youth group. Friends. Bills. My weight and food struggles. Marriage. Extended family that I hardly ever get to see. The crazy things happening in our nation and our world and with healthcare - all of it invites me to worry. So many things vying for my attention, my time, my heart.
The biggest part of life that feels challenging at the moment is one little bundle of eight-month old cuteness. I have this precious, adorable baby boy who I dearly love, but who is attached me like white on rice. If I'm there, if I'm home, and he's awake - he needs me. All of me. All of my attention. And I'm not handling his attachment to me well. Most of my time home is spent on the floor playing, keeping him from giving himself another black eye as he thinks now is a good time to try and pull up on things and attempt to walk everywhere - as gracelessly as possible. He is adventurous, stubborn, strong-willed, loud and so incredibly joyful. A completely adorable handful.
I've felt myself feel nearly desperate for alone time. Just some silence to breathe. To read and write. To clean something in my house. To pee in peace for gods sake. To run away alone to the beach for some solitude. The moment he goes down for a nap or off to bed for the night I'm trying to stay on top of life. The laundry. The bills. The everyday tidy and clean-up and the sweeping the kitchen floor again because if there is anything there, Jacob will literally face plant on the linoleum and lick it up regardless of what it is. And writing, blogging, journaling, taking a walk - ha. The things I enjoy the most are the things that always come last.
I love my boys, I love being a mother - I really do. But some days, being a mom to a baby again, plus a million other things, wears on every nerve in my body.
Earlier this week some old hurts surfaced for me. I'm still not sure
what to do with them, but it became very clear to me that it was time to
find some care for myself again. Some sit-with-a-counselor and be
faced with some heart questions is something I need to do. Yet, as Todd
and I talked about this last night on a short and very late date-night,
my main question was - where do I find the time?
While much of me enjoys a good amount of energy and activity and life-living, I am honestly just very tired. I'm working less, I've trimmed down my calendar of obligations and weekly night activities. Yet, I constantly feel on the go and just slightly behind on everything. I feel like I'm always letting someone down. I'm not there enough for my family. I'm not present enough for a friend. I'm struggling in areas that I can't seem to get a grasp on.
Does any of it ever even out? Will it? Is there some magical balance I will manage to achieve where I can work, mother, have a social life, a clean, organized and beautifully decorated home, be a living example of a Godly woman and wife, have a thriving sex-life and marriage, lose weight and be healthy and just feel caught up with life in general?
All of that feels like some distant, impossible dream. For some reason, being that woman is who I am always striving to be. And I'm wondering if I'm striving for the right thing....
Regardless, I'm left here hoping this is a season - one that will be moving on quickly. Or if at thirty-two I'm supposed to have this whole "balance" thing figured out. Do all women go through a season where they're just trying to keep their heads above water? Knowing they need more, that they need something for themselves and not being able to get it? I guess I'm afraid I'm missing something or doing something wrong. So much of me wants to live life fully, to do everything, be everything, and get everything right and "figured out."
And with that, my baby awakes and my time to write and vent and spill my guts to the world has come to an end. It's time again to play on the living room floor.