That 10 minutes included folding a king-size fitted sheet.
It doesn't take long to realize that having a child makes life messy. While the literal spaghetti-in-the-hair messy certainly applies, I'm more so referencing the I-dont-have-it-all-together kinda messy. And I'm FAR from a perfect mama. In fact, the longer I'm a parent, the more messy and imperfect things begin to look. Like when I was at my wits end a few weeks ago dealing with a sick and teething child who was too tired and cranky to nap. I may or may not have laid him down and turned on the vacuum cleaner to drown out his wailing. Or that time I was out of the house and had forgotten my nursing cover or a blanket and instead used a shopping cart cover to conceal my breastfeeding son (and my boob) while eating lunch at Chick-fil-A. Howabout when I forgot to pack something for Isaac to eat for dinner and ended up feeding him a ritz cracker and half a carton of diet yogurt. Just last week, I was too lazy to dig Isaac's toothbrush out of my overnight bag and instead wiped his teeth down with the washcloth I'd bathed him with.
I'd just like to point out that Isaac is still a healthy and happy child despite all of my recent less-than-stellar choices.
It's just kind of incredible how parenthood becomes this giant spotlight or great big magnifying glass of all of your most ugly tendencies. Selfishness. Impatience. Jealousy. Stubbornness. Anger. If I thought I had a handle on these emotions before, well now they stare me in the face day after day. When life revolves around caring for a child that has no ability to care for himself, selfishness must take a backseat. (even though most days I still just want to do what I want to do.) Patience is tested to its absolute limits on those afternoons of endless crying. Jealousy becomes ugly and comparison steals all joy. I dig my stubborn heels in and fight back against unconquerable battles. Frustrations turn to anger and before you know it, I'm throwing a book across the room and calling my husband to come home and rescue me.
Wow. I can see clearly now how wretched I truly am.
And how desperately I need a Savior.
A great, big, powerful, love-me-harder-than-I-know God who can pick me up when I am on my knees. The One who reminds me that parenting my son is my greatest calling and is quick to extend grace to a tired mama. The One who has promised that life wouldn't be easy. The One who speaks and reveals Himself through my baby's giggles. In a moment, my heart fills with love and I can't help but smile, hug, and kiss my precious boy. My strength is renewed for a moment and the marathon continues.