Today went sideways.

I wish I could justify it with a laundry list of deep grief—and while I have some of that, it wasn’t pain that spiraled me today.

It was the usual throes of motherhood.

Nothing could appease my discontented children. Every ho-hum part of our day was a struggle.

I eventually started giving them everything they demanded because I was too tired to combat melt-downs.

I poured a truckload of veggie straws onto the high chair tray to quiet our toddler as our eldest cried because his quantity of snacks were fewer.

I shot him a fiery glance, which only exacerbated his tears. I pulled him close, feeling the weight of my glance.

I walked to the kitchen sink. I stood there gripping the counter, staring out the window.

I’m pregnant with our third.

Motherhood is hard.

I don’t even like to put that in writing.

So many women and couples yearn for what we have.

Motherhood is still hard.

It feels like I’m complaining.

Being a mom to these boys is my greatest joy. More joyous than I could have imagined.

Motherhood is still hard.

It’s different than the hard of sorrowful grief. I have that too.

I have perspective.

Motherhood is still hard.

As I stared out my kitchen window, I knew what I’d do.

I’ll be more structured with bedtimes.
I’ll eliminate sugar in their diet.
I’ll exercise to lengthen my fuse.
I’ll make nap times earlier.
I’ll set aside a greater amount of one-on-one time with each child.
I’ll say no to increase margin in our schedule.
I’ll wear them out with outdoor activities.
I’ll decrease screen time.
I’ll be military consistent.

A plan always comforts my optimist heart.

But deep down, I knew I was straining. Straining for something that doesn’t exist. Straining for an easy motherhood.

You can have easy children.

But an easy motherhood just doesn’t exist.

I don’t care if your baby self-soothes, your toddler makes his own lunch, your child has never needed consequences, and your teenager is a YouTube evangelist.

Motherhood is still hard.

You can have the easiest facts on the face of planet earth, and motherhood will still beat you up.

You can get it all right and still feel completely wrong.

You can think motherhood to death, and it will still leave you perplexed.

Motherhood is hard.

And it’s OK.

It’s okay that it’s hard.

It’s okay that we call it hard.

It’s okay that we can’t always tie it up with a cute little cliché.

We know it’s our calling.

We know we’re smack dab in the middle of what God has for us.

We know His grace is sufficient for our poor discretion and our lack, for sleepless nights and circumstances we can’t control, for personalities that wear us down, for meltdowns and exhaustion and frustration, for ugly moments that make us question everything.

We know we’re where God has us.

We hang our hats on that.

And we start again tomorrow.

This post originally appeared on Paige Pippin

 

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