Mom Interrupted

Unfortunately, it has been one of "those" weeks. You know, the ones where motherhood is less like a warm hug and more like a slap in the face. We had all of the ingredients for chaos on the home front: just got home from a long trip, winter cold season finally hit our house, baby got shots, the three year old was having major mood swings, two birthday parties, etc. I fought all week to get things back to "normal." In retrospect, if I had accepted this new "normal" instead of fighting for the old one, I would have had a better week. When I start my day intent on specific goals (like laundry and dinner) everything that competes with those goals feels like an interruption. The sweet things don't feel like interruptions as much as the messy ones. For example:



William: Hi, Mommy! I'm off to fight the bees. Would you like to come watch me?

A sweet request. Not an interruption. As opposed to:



Me: Uh oh, Georgie. Your boots are dirty. Go outside and stomp on the rug.



George: NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!

Now I have an interruption on my hands. But it only feels that way because cleaning up mud and disciplining a toddler aren't pleasant. That wasn't on my list.

When we're getting ready to go somewhere it's easy to have "Get there on time, get there on time, get there on time," racing through my head like a broken record. That's exactly what happend this week:



Me: Hurry, hurry everybody. We're running late.



George: Mommy, don't feel good...

The goal should remain broad: take care of little hearts, minds, and bodies. Then, when I'm cleaning vomit off the car seat instead of reaching my destination on time, I'm not caught off gaurd. That's exactly what I was supposed to be doing. Ultimately the kids don't find peace in a tight, orderly schedule as much as they find peace in a happy mommy. These events aren't interrutions to my life. The interruptions ARE my life.