Sick and Tired

I wrote the following in response to a friend who asked me how I was doing.  After sending it I realized that many moms, regardless if they are sick, have days like I had this morning.  So, in an effort to be vulnerable, give ya a good laugh and hopefully encourage a few tired mamas, here ya go… Here’s how I was doing earlier today.

Well, I don’t feel good.  I haven’t felt good since Thursday afternoon when I began having sneezing fits and was up all hours of the night blowing my nose and sniffing snot.  My head has felt heavy and it’s been hard to concentrate because of all the pressure built up around my glands and sinuses.  I’m not sure if I got something from one of the twelve functions we’ve had since last Monday.  I could have picked up something from one of the two bible studies I did this week, the trip to the children’s museum, the family that came to play at our house, our co-op event at the library, the cookout with friends, church on Wednesday, the play date at Chick-fil-a, or even from one of the nine stores I ran errands to with all the kids.  Who knows?  Regardless, yesterday, I woke up unable to talk for a while because I had sinus drainage all throughout the night, which took away my voice.   But, you know me, I’m crazy.  So, after running to the store to get a last minute gift, I still choose to take my kids to a birthday party they had been looking forward to all week. Afterwards, my energy level was drained from being out in the sun for a couple hours.  I almost fell down the stairs because of a lack of energy and light-headedness.  I crashed on the couch for an hour and a half and then I made my way upstairs to bed.  I would have taken something, but since I’m now 20 weeks pregnant there’s not much I can do (as if being pregnant isn’t exhausting enough).

As I lay inside on the couch yesterday, my husband read a book in the shade and watched the kids played in the pool.  Later he let them watch videos in the playroom while he played a video game (a rare thing for him these days).  Last night he ordered pizza for dinner and although it went against our normal routine, I was just very thankful I didn’t have to chase the kids around.

The odd thing was that when I went upstairs to rest, I was overwhelmed with guilt because I wasn’t being productive and doing something to benefit my family.  I wanted to sleep yet I worked on editing videos, just so I could say I did something worthwhile.

Now, it’s Sunday morning.  My husband and kids are at church.  I’m in bed and yet again I feel guilty.  Why?  Why can’t I rest?  I am currently crying because every part of me hurts yet I don’t want to complain, and I still feel compelled to be doing something.  Honestly, I just want to give up.  I want to disappear so I can rest and recover without feeling guilty.    And, truth be told…my heart is battling anger.  Although I am lying in bed that still doesn’t mean I’ve had a restful morning.

No, not at all.  In fact, this morning my husband remembered he had a meeting and had to be at church early.  I had been hoping not to go to church today since I didn’t feel good and was hoping to rest while Josh and the kids were gone. I had the expectation that my husband would take care of getting the kids breakfast and getting them dressed so that I didn’t’ have to get out of bed.  This was especially appealing as my spot in the bed was taken around midnight by a little girl who had awoke from a bad dream. And at 5:00 a.m. it became a little more crowded as a little boy snuggled himself in next to me whispering for me to come play with him in the playroom (or make him some bagels and cream cheese in the kitchen).  But, at my husband’s announcement of this meeting, my hopes disappeared as quickly as candy falling from a piñata.

I bathed all three kids, shampooing and conditioning hair and trying not to touch them too much as I scrubbed their little bodies.  You see, for six weeks I had been hinting around that we had poison ivy that needed to be taken care of (along with lots of other yard work like mowing, weed-eating, edging, sanding of the back porch, staining of the back porch, and fixing lattice work).   I finally realized I was the only one who cared to resolve these issues.  Last weekend, I spent almost an hour in the hot sun pulling up enough poison ivy from our premises to fill a trash bag.  Even though I wore long sleeved clothing, jeans, and gloves somehow I still got poison ivy on my wrists, leg, and it’s now appeared on my stomach.  I also ended up paying a landscaping company $40 to take care of all the lawn care because I just could not handle it anymore. So, with all that said, as I bathed the kids this morning I was trying to be overly cautious so that I would not have to deal with them contracting the stupid rash I’ve received from the uninvited toxic vine.  (I’m evidently feeling a little dramatic)

I picked out church clothes, which is difficult when there are four loads of unfolded wrinkled laundry lying in piles in the playroom from five days ago and no one seems capable of finding their own underwear or panties.  This made me remember to start a load of laundry.  I had been tripping over it in the bathroom as I was bathing the kids.  I realized it smelled because in it were the towels I used to clean up the mess from when one of the kids woke up in the middle of the night to go pee and did not make it all the way to the bathroom.

I got all three kids dressed (after carrying around a naked toddler up and down the stairs as I hunted for diaper cream).  I sat for a minute to brushed long blonde very tangled hair and recover from my light-headed state from going up and down the stairs.  I embarked on a sneezing fit but was able to recover quickly.  I searched six different rooms for some lost shoes, which we never did find, and decided to go with other shoes that didn’t match. I packed a diaper bag for Eli complete with snacks, diapers, wipes, a Sippy cup, and a few other essentials.

I weakly cleaned up the breakfast mess, probably because I never had time to actually eat anything myself.  I knew with the time constraint of getting the kids to church, the best thing to do was ignore the dishes in the sink and the crumbs all over the table, highchair, and floor…even if it meant I would have to deal with an ant problem this afternoon.

I straightening part of the playroom as I hunted for another child’s missing sandal.  I decided to gather up the trashcans from the bathrooms upstairs since our toddler decided to play in them as I was looking for the lone sandal that vanished without a trace.  This resulted in me trying to take out the trash.  Reality set in when I realized I had to take out two entire bags. Although yesterday was Saturday and everyone had enjoyed their time together, momma had not been cracking the whip to keep the house in order.   Consequently, the trash was actually piled up and overflowing on to the kitchen floor.

As I took out the trash I tripped over toys in the garage that had not been cleaned up so out of annoyance I kicked the toys to the side and muttered under my breath that I was going to donate them to charity.

Then, of course, I had another sneezing fit, which brought about me having to blow my nose repetitively.  As I went to throw away my tissue I realized I needed to replace the trash bag.  Opening the pantry, I found boxes of opened crackers crumbled in floor.  Either a messy bandit had gotten in our house or my toddler had been feeding himself a few saltines.  This meant that I was going to have to find the broom and dust pan that most certainly had been used as a horse to gallop one of my little knights to a kingdom far, far away.  Yes, broom found in Kingdom Living Room.  Crackers cleaned up, check.  Trash bag back in trashcan, check.  Now, what was I doing???

I packed a bible bag for children’s church (which later I had to deal with my critical six year old who reprimanded me for not including a pencil to go with her journal). 

I packed up the eight thank you notes that I wrote a day or so ago and have not been able to address and get in the mail.  My hope is that my husband will run in to some of the individuals at church and not only save me a stamp but save me 15-20 minutes of having to look up addresses in the church’s outdated directory.  Oh, and of course, several of the notes were still not sealed because they needed gift cards put in them.  One gift card for family who had a baby but who I never had time to make a meal. And, one for a family who served so faithfully by teaching one of the most difficult classes at the church. I had planned on inviting them over for dinner one night but had finally resolved to go the easy route and do a gift card, if only I could find where I put the gift cards for “safe-keeping.”  Good thing I took all the kids with me the other day to run in to several different stores to pick up these gift cards.   

“On top of the fridge.  That’s right, now I remember putting the gift cards there!”  As I reached up, life transformed into slow motion.  This is a very familiar feeling to me especially when something is about to happen that I have no control over stopping.  And there it was, I had just spilt the entire bucket of Legos on to the kitchen floor.  We had placed them on top of the refrigerator to keep away from the toddler who thinks Legos are not only edible but appetizing. Like a bug drawn to light, my toddler runs into the kitchen and begins grabbing handfuls of Legos as I try with all my might to shovel them back into the plastic tub.

Of course my body thought this would be the perfect time to commence another sneezing fit. 

As I’m blowing my nose, I realize I have accidently left bathroom door open behind me.  Now its time to wash the hands of my toddler who was just playing in the toilet, evidently trying to decorate it with the leftover Legos I had not yet recovered.  (Some days I swear he has a teleportation machine)

“Oh, do you hear that?  The load of laundry is done,” I think to myself.  “Since I was in a hurry I didn’t sort the clothes by color.  I don’t want the towels to bleed on anything so I guess I need to go switch out the laundry.”  Surprise!  There’s another load of unfolded wrinkled laundry in the dryer that I need to move first.  I guess I’ll just pile it on top of the other loads in the playroom.  As, I’m putting the clothes from the washing machine into the dryer; I notice a pair of the toddler’s pajamas sitting on top of the dryer.  Oh yes, here are the pajamas that I asked my husband to put here almost two weeks ago because Eli had had a blow out.  Oh my! I notice that the poop was never washed out of the pajamas before placing them on top of the dryer.  So, I commence rinsing out almost two week old poop-pajamas.  Then, of course, by the time I start using the stain removal spray I have yet another sneezing fit.  Once I recovered, I grab the rest of the baby clothes that need to be washed and realize that the sheets from our guest bed (also in the baby’s room) never got washed from when we had company over the Memorial Day holiday.  I strip the sheet and add them in with the baby clothes to start my second load of laundry for the morning.  (By the way, it’s 8:50 a.m.)

And, while I’m upstairs I decide to go ahead and change from my pajama pants to some shorts, especially since with all this sneezing I’m pretty sure I’ve slightly peed on myself a time or two (did I mention I’m 20 weeks pregnant now).

Finally, I load up all the kids and their bags and chauffeur them to church where my husband happily walks them inside to drop them off in their respective classrooms.  I change vehicles, leaving the van with all the car seats for my husband.  I drive back home in our car that has no air conditioning, a cracked windshield, and as uncomfortable as I am having another sneezing fit, it reminds me how much I want to save so we can afford to get my husband a better vehicle.

I return home, and realize that if I wait to clean up the kitchen we really will have an ant problem.  I wash off the crumbs from the table and pick up the veggie straws from the floor that are undoubtedly left from lunch yesterday.  I find the broom again and sweep as I pick up all the items that the toddler has pulled off the refrigerator side and left lying in the walkway, along with a few Legos I missed earlier.  I pile additional dishes into the sink too scared to see if the dishwasher has been emptied, or even run.  I start straightening our living room that has toys and library books strewn about like confetti on New Year’s Eve.  I pick up the blanket the kids used to eat pizza on last night, as they watched a show with Daddy.  Of course, the crumbs go everywhere resulting in the need for a good vacuum of the carpet.  As I put away the vacuum I see items from my desk on a shelf in the closet.  I go to return the items and see that someone was creative with the art supplies in the homeschool room.  I straighten scattered papers, peel stickers off my chair, and wipe up gooey little handprints off my desk.  I finally make my way up the stairs just in time to be reminded by a dull buzz that I need to switch out the laundry.  I pick up wet towels from the floor the kid’s bedroom and throw a couple toys from the hallway back into the playroom and make my way to my very own bedroom.

At 11:10 I crawl back into my bed.  I begin to cry because as exhausted and tired as I am, I still cannot rest.  I start down the route of self-pity as I think about how almost every one I know has either their mom, sister, mother-in-law, grandmother, or a teenager in their home that they can call on to help in moments like these.  My closest relative lives 8 hours away.  My oldest child is six and my closest friends live 45 minutes away.  I feel alone.

All I can do is think about the endless tasks that are awaiting me. I need to make a meal list for the week, go grocery shopping, and pay the bills.  I want to get the house straight so I can give my undivided attention to my friend who is coming to visit tomorrow, from Germany.  I still need to fold and put away laundry, call a plumber to fix my shower, prep homeschool lessons for the week, and touch base with my grandmother who will think I’ve forgotten her because I’ve not called in 48 hours.  Not to mention, shower, brush my hair and get dressed because my husband’s preaching tonight and I don’t want to miss it. Things I can put off until tomorrow (realistically Tuesday) include preparing for bible study, returning library books, putting the check in the bank, getting ready for Father’s Day, and buying more crickets for our pet frogs.  Then there’s the things that I want to do, the promises I made to the kids of painting fingernails or playing robots, reading library books, and taking them to Target so they can buy something they finally have enough money to buy from the money they’ve been saving for months from their $1 they get a week.   

I ponder the idea of starting a movement to rename life “Excreta.” Isn’t this life?  Even when you don’t feel good, life just keeps going on, and on, and on….ect.  I’m not sure who would even understand my logic and it’s not like I have time for that anyway.

Then, a wonderful thing happened.  Grace.  I began to pray and I realized I needed to change my focus.

So, let me state shift gears.  My point in writing this was not to complain or to seek pity, but to be honest and vulnerable with other mommas who have hard days. When you’re in that moment when all you want to do it cry (or run away), remember to respond by turning to God and the promises of his Word!  It’s by the grace of God alone that instead of staying in my complaining mood I can rejoice in the hope that I have and remember to think on what I know to be true, (even when my pregnant, ill, and exhausted heart and mind want to tell me otherwise).

Here are the things that came to my mind after I prayed:

God is sovereign and he ordains difficult circumstances and difficult days so that we can learn perseverance and steadfastness.

James 1: 2-3 Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. 

Romans 5:3-5 We rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.

It is when we feel weak and at our wits end that we rely fully on God’s grace and not our own strength.

What I’m going through is exceptionally mild to the real trials others are going through.  My poison ivy will go away eventually.  I won’t be sick forever and at least I’m not battling cancer or other life threatening illnesses.  My house may be a disarray, but at least I have one. 

I am beyond blessed to have an amazing husband.  On a regular basis he reminds me of gospel truth, helps around the house, loves and plays with our children, and even gives me time out of the home to work on administrative projects.  Many husbands never do any of those things so I count myself a very fortunate woman.

I genuinely see my kids as a blessing.  As my kids get older they will be able to help more.  Although this season can be difficult, I do not need to wish it away because a day will come when I wish I had little bottoms to wash, tiny clothes to fold, Legos to pick up, pizza picnic blankets to vacuum after.  These little ones are worth the exhaustion and they bring more joy to my heart than anything else on this planet.

I’m not called to a life of easy or comfort, but I am called to live like Christ who humbled himself and served others in every way imaginable.

Phil 2 :3-8 Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others. Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.

And with these great reminders, I hear our garage door opening, signaling the return of my family from church.  I think I will go downstairs and joyfully plant a few kisses on their faces before they get covered in the PB&J I’ll need to make for lunch.