Sunday, February 14, 2010


As the last dish lightly clangs while being placed in the dishwasher and the last toy is placed in the toybox for the night and the washing machine is running it's first load of the day, the clock hits 10pm.

I take a breath.

I thank God for getting me through another day of my life.

Yes, it could be worse, I know. But to me, this is all I know. And to you, whatever I tell you, is all you know.

It's like I am two people. After the kids are in bed, I am able to relax and reflect and feel guilty for yelling one too many times, for getting frustrated a million too many times, for saying no, when I very well could have said yes.

I struggle to be a better mother to my children. I feel the tug and pull and force to give up. And it isn't until the day is over when I come to my senses. Or more so, the regret. And thank God for these amazing children I am honored to be in the presence of. I vow tomorrow will be better, easier. I will be more loving, and thankful and calm.

But it doesn't happen. And why? What am I holding onto? Who am I always trying to impress? Why do I struggle to make everything perfect? Where is my release?

I take a breath. I will fall asleep, far too late. Which results in not enough sleep, and I wake up ever too early, to the cry of my baby girl in the next room.


And again.....tomorrow will be a new day.

1 comment:

Sheryl said...

This is me nearly everyday.