Love it, Hate it.

Ahh, motherhood, a tiring and generally thankless job. Yet the most demanding ministry I could have imagined. Yoga in the morning, a thriving garden, homeschooling my three little blondies, baking cupcakes on a Wednesday just because, and a husband who never misses an opportunity for a kiss. It's all I dreamed of as a child and it's in the palm of my hand. And yet this morning? I hear "hey Mommy" coming from the other room, it's 6:30 am, I stop typing, and I just cry. He's going to wake the baby. Yep, right on cue, there he goes. Time to nurse. Step into the bathroom to hide for just a minute? Yep, there it is haunting me again, hair thrown on top of my head, half styled before I just gave up. Brief pause to throw the Lalaloopsy doll across the living room that they were screaming over. "Your brother and your sister are more important than THINGS!" No shorts to wear today because work uniforms are laundry priority. No milk for my coffee today because toddler hands tried to pour it over their cereal themselves. Fresh mopped floors now...unfresh. Is that a word? Don't know, don't care. Don't have time to look it up, but there's a red squiggle spellcheck there, so probably not. Something just crashed in the other room and I'm just smiling and not getting up because...well, it's probably better for them that way!

Ahh, motherhood. Love it and hate it. Always pictured myself as a missionary in a third world, and I'm still mourning that loss, the trade, for motherhood. Missions certainly is hard. Very unselfish, I thought, growing up. And yet, here I am, imagining how much simpler that would be than this season of my life. As a mother, I am choosing to serve without ceasing, waking up to do housework while all play, knowing that it will soon be undone. Cooking the day's meals while all rest, knowing that bellies will soon be hungry yet again. Nursing through the night while all sleep. And the 20 minutes I have for myself? Devoted to school planning and organizing. Knowing that, as a homeschool parent, I will not be without three children, even just to run to the store to replace that spilled half gallon of milk for the next 10 years at least, is a heavy burden to bear. I am tired, and looking at my future makes me weary. And as I'm serving three kids and a husband, I am inundated with the truths of other moms. Lunch dates, alone time, laying at the beach because their kids are in school, catching up over coffee, and let us not forget - grocery shopping alone. So what's my identity? I like to run, am I a runner mom? I like to scrapbook - so...crafty mom? Cooking, that's it, that's my thing! But this is oh so wrong. Such a wrong way for me to think. And I cry out to my God, and then I hear Him. "You are a missionary. I am proud of you. You are laying down your life for my purpose. Find your rest with me." The truth is, I am His daughter first. I am His daughter-in-law, second. I am raising His children, third. It is all most important. He sees me. Walking around my kitchen table crying and reciting Proverbs so that I don't raise my voice to my children? Important. Being a put together mom with the right combo of the season's plaid and leopard print combo? Not important. I am in the thick of it. I am raising the least of these. Society's burden, but eternity's future. So undone hair and all, I will pick up and carry on, but this time I know - I'm not alone.