Exhausted. That's what I told myself this morning. Where has all the energy gone? Where's the ambition? This baby is sucking it out of me. I went to my children's room. It was seven. I found they were already awake.
"Mom, there's poo on my bed." Sure enough two spots of dried poop on his sheets. I thought I'd gotten it all two days ago when I found it on the comforter. I knew then I should have washed everything, but I was exhausted. And now I'd made my son sleep with poo for two nights. Somebody give me the mother of the year award.
I stripped the bed and walked out into our main room to find more evidence of deserving a rewards ceremony. The dinner dishes were still sitting on the dinner table. The coffee table and chairs were skeewompis; evidence that my children had been playing trains while I was passed out in my bedroom the night before. I had woken up just in time to tell them to brush their teeth and go to bed. Then I went back to bed.
I started cleaning, all the time thinking to myself, "I'm exhausted and it's going to be dirty again faster than I can get it cleaned up." As evidence of the fact, my two year old brought his loaded water gun from the bathroom out to our front porch, dumping all the water that was in it in a trail along the way.
I handed out breakfast to my 5 year old and 4 year old as they headed out the door with their dad for kindergarten and preschool. I shook my head at what I was giving them. Chocolate cake for breakfast. Well, no worse than cocopuffs I guess.
My two year old started screaming as soon as they shut the door. He wanted to go too. When would he finally realize that he wasn't going to be going with them when they left in the morning? This daily ritual was beyond old. I picked up my son and mingled my tears with his. This was becoming a morning ritual as well.
Last Sunday the lesson I had prepared to teach our young women (ages 12-18) completely fell apart when the computer wouldn't print the things I needed. I was left to wing a lesson about gratitude. I said a prayer and told Heavenly Father I had tried to prepare but as it was, He'd have to teach the lesson. He did. We read the story of the 10 lepers (Luke 17:12-19). We found together that the grateful leper first praised Jesus from afar and then in the next verse he was at Jesus feet thanking Him. I wasn't there, but in my mind's eye I can see him realizing the miracle and immediately screaming gratitude and running to Jesus where he falls at His feet in exhaustion and tears of gratitude. And Jesus asks where are the other 9? and if I know Jesus (which I'm still working on), He didn't ask because He didn't know. He asked because He wanted us to think about it.
So what have I got to be grateful for that I should be so excited about that it makes me exhausted with the gratitude of it? I held my crying boy tighter and was grateful that he still comes to me when he's sad. I felt the boy in my tummy kick. I guess big brother was crushing him. I looked at the toys, crayons, and art projects cluttering the floor as well as the cake crumbs that ants were already making their breakfast.
Why was I one of the nine? I am tired...because I'm full of new and what is now a healthy life. Housework is monotonous and thankless...but I have a house. I have things, people, and relationships that I feel sad about, but what I've learned from those relationships should be and is more than enough to fill my heart full of the kind of gratitude that may not make me jump up and scream but does make me quiet, thoughtful, and grateful at His wisdom and that He is mindful of me. And the relationship I have with my husband is that kind that makes me want to jump up and scream with gratitude. Life is good and I let me two year old study ants while I mopped up the water.
