I am a fracture.

My life is fractured.

My structure is fractured.

As a stay at home AND work at home mama, I struggle with getting things done. I struggle to balance laundry, dishes, our company, this blog, putting a bra on, working out, making sure the kids are on time, drinking enough water, and brushing my teeth. My days are fractured. My days feel like a broken record that constantly skips and starts back at the beginning.

It’s been a struggle to maintain some kind of normalcy with our youngest. He doesn’t sleep. He cat naps. Which would be acceptable if it wasn’t in a 24-hour cycle. He has never napped over 30 minutes WITHOUT being held. I’d like to think that he was “born this way” and that I did nothing to contribute to this, but in all transparency, I have no earthly clue as to why he’s like this. It could be me. I would love to blame this issue on my, seeing as how I’m around him LITERALLY 24/7, it has to be me right? I created this little clingy adorable monster. This week I am trying to tame him, wish me luck!

Because of this issue, among many others, my life and my days are fractured. Let me give you an example of a typical morning:

I start emptying our dishwasher in the morning after the hubby is off to work and after our oldest is off to school. I get 4 dishes put away and the baby comes and tries to grab ALL THE KNIVES. Seriously, why is this kid attracted to only the sharp pointy things! Should I be concerned? The verdict is still out on that one.

So I get the baby out of the dishwasher and put him in front of some toys; thus getting another 5-6 dishes put away. Unloading the dishwasher is such a common task that shouldn’t take more than 10 minutes. This morning it took me over 30. Baby got quiet, naturally, I go to investigate only to find him playing with our toilet brush. I throw up in my mouth a little, shut all the doors for the 17^th time this morning, and get him sanitized. On the way back out to the kitchen, I realize that the bathroom trash is overflowing with diapers. Might as well empty that since I’m here. Now, back to emptying the dishwasher.

Seven minutes goes by and the aroma hits me. The dreaded morning poop. Every morning at 815. At least he’s regular right? I’ve tried to make him wait a few minutes until I can get the last few dishes put away, but he’s learned that if he sits just right and spreads his legs he can access said poop and smear it on the floor. Again, throwing up in my mouth a little, change and sanitize baby, sanitize floor, and might as well get baby dressed since I’m back here. It just makes sense. While in his room I realize that the diaper genie needs to be emptied. So I empty that, because I’m back here, it just makes sense.

On the way to drop giant blue tube of poop, (aka the diaper genie bag) out the back door I realize that the dog needs food. Naturally, I feed him, normally a job for our oldest, but some mornings are just nuts. Now back to the dishwasher. At which time I realize that baby has taken the remaining Tupperware, from the dishwasher, and thrown it across the kitchen. Awesome. Knowing how often I am able to sweep my floor I just throw it back in the sink. Better safe than sorry right?

Thirty-five minutes to empty one load of dishes. Interrupted half a dozen times. Fractured.

I’ve realized it’s this way with everything. Have you ever read that poem, “if you give a mom a muffin”?. Enjoy this little tidbit and tell me if it resonates:

Before I had kids I thought this was the stupidest poem I’d ever heard. I actually resented this little ditty; telling myself those moms just need to discipline their kids better… I’m eating my words now; in quite large bites I might add. This is indeed truer than I’d like to admit. I would love for someone to tell me that “it’ll get better as they grow older”, but I’m way too much of a realist to believe that. I have had people tell me, “oh just enjoy this time while they are little, you’ll miss it when they’re older.” Well, I’ll tell you one thing, the only thing I miss right now is sleep. And peeing by myself. Part of me knows their right. I should enjoy this time. Watching him learn where his nose is, makes my heart sing with joy. Seeing them blow kisses for the first time makes me melt. I will miss this, but at the same time, I don’t think it makes me a bad mom to wish for a little more independence and a little more space from this adorable little monster.

You see I’m inundated with people. I don’t pee by myself, shower by myself,  grocery shop by myself, drive anywhere by myself, sleep by myself, get gas by myself,  get dressed or even balance my checkbook by myself. Nor do I go on dates by myself. I don’t sit by myself. Furthermore, nothing is ever quiet. I am surrounded by little people all day. I’m surrounded by family all day. Let me tell you, it’s exhaustion. Some days I just want to be alone. I just want to sit in silence and enjoy it. I want to just sit down and not have to get up 2.9 seconds later because suddenly someone is hungry/thirsty/stinky/hurt/or having some end of the world emergency because we saw a fly.

My life is fractured.

I am fractured.

Is it lame to say that my essence is fractured?

If you’re around my age you probably grew up watching beauty and the beast. The old school Disney version on a classic (dare I say historical VHS). When I started fleshing out this topic for today I kept thinking of that stained glass shot:

As I take a few moments to look at this picture above I find that it’s stunning. It’s fractured. But it’s stunning. All the pieces look discombobulated, but they work together in harmony. It’s a beautiful picture frankly.

Look at this photo, though: this is what I feel like most days. This is what I feel that I look like; this disfigured mess that doesn’t make sense. This is what I feel like my days looks like most of the time. A mess! There is no order, only chaos. Only a bunch of pieces that don’t match up together to make a whole, harmonious picture.

Does my mindset and view of this phase in my life turn it from this messy fracture to the pretty fracture? Am I the one holding myself back from harmony? I don’t know. Maybe. Are you operating right now? I don’t know…maybe…sorry inside joke.

But what’s the difference between the harmonic stained glass fracture and the disfigured fracture? I have no idea. Even the disfigured mess has a hint of beauty to it. But it is still fractured. I am still a fracture. I think what makes the most difference between the disfigured fracture and the harmonic fracture is the light. When you see a stained glass window in the dark it just looks like a bunch of random pieces that are soldered together. It’s dull and doesn’t make sense. We can’t see the full picture when it’s not illuminated. But, when you look at a stained glass window when the sunlight is shining through it, we see the whole picture. It looks different. It sparkles and shines with beauty. You don’t see the fractures; you only see how the different colors work together in harmony. That light is Christ. When Christ’s light is shining through us makes us make sense! Christ makes us. His design is illuminated through our fractures and we see this beautiful picture, a beautiful piece of art!

The more I think about it and dwell on this topic, in my rabid frustration, and I think that our viewpoints and HOW WE HANDLE OUR FRUSTRATIONS, has a lot to do with what our fracture looks like on that certain day. We are our own worst enemy at times. I really think that ultimately Satan is our worst enemy. Truly, I believe,  that Satan puts thoughts into our head to turn our chaotic fracture into the beautiful harmonious fracture when we are focusing on Christ and where He has put us in this moment.

I realize this blog sounds like a huge complaining rant. I try not to go there in my blogs too often, but there are moments when I need to step away from the “the mom who has it all together mode” that I often pretend I am and be realistic. Parenting sucks sometimes. It’s exhausting. It’s gratifying, but it’s just as exhausting. Exhausting in every possible way. I am fractured and I don’t know when (or if) I will ever be whole again. But I long to at least be the beautiful harmonious fracture sometime very soon.

 

Cheers,

Nila