“Let’s get together soon. We really want to have you over to the new place for dinner,” said in all sincerity, but I can’t help but feel the gut wrenching guilt that creeps to the back of my throat almost as soon as the words exit my mouth.
The truth is, I can barely get dinner on the table for my own family let alone plan and prepare a meal for yours. Not to mention the cleaning of the house– or rather hiding of the toys and swiping every surface known to man with a baby wipe.
There’s fruit flies coming up from the depths of my garbage disposal and every time I look down I see a family of them floating in my drink. My warm drink that is, because our ice maker is broken… “Yea sure, come on over!”
I have no more energy for the customary “new home” talk. The kind of conversations where you excitedly talk about all the things you love and all the things you’re going to change. The days of joyously debating wall colors over a drink with a girlfriend are over for me. The last of that happened a week ago with my last house guest and while the dreaming was wonderful, reality has now set in. And it feels daunting. One more task on the never ending to-do list that is my life lately.
I can barely think strait after a whirlwind summer and my ears are pounding with what a few days ago I thought was the beginnings of an ear infection. But now after ear candling, may have just been a bad case of enough ear wax to put a Yankee candle to shame. Yet again, maybe it is an ear infection?
Two days ago, my iPhone went for 60 mph ride on interstate 240 and although I am extremely grateful to my husband for dodging traffic to rescue it, I would be remiss if I didn’t inform you that I am now arranging a flight home for a funeral through a thousand little cracks in my shattered screen. Did I mention it’s my third funeral in seven months?
How did life get this busy? When did I become a grown up?
It feels like I’m in this perpetual state of over promising and under delivering. Telling friends and family that I will be there and then never showing up. Sometimes physically and sometimes mentally. I’ve had to bow out of more commitments this summer than any other time in recent memory. I’ve enthusiastically agreed with my whole heart and then two weeks later realized, “it just ain’t gonna happen.” More than once. And to all those on the receiving end, I’m truly sorry.
I have this image in my head of who I want to be. The woman I want people to say I am. But I feel like I’m always walking up the down escalator. Intending to reach my destination but never quite making it.
I have an offer on the table for a part-time writing gig, but can’t ever seem to find the time to sit down and write. (You know who you are… and I’m sorry I still haven’t called you back!)
I have a voicemail waiting with a request to volunteer and hundred other good ideas to make that organization great, but I can’t seem to find the energy to return the call.
I have a handful of voices in my head telling me what I should do with my time. Comments from friends or negative internal dialogue that implies what no one wants to say out loud…You’re a stay-at-home mom, so you must have an endless abundance of spare time, right?
But here and now, is where it stops.
No more over committing. Period. No more empty promises. This is not some mental parade march to encourage myself to “get back at it” and start showing up for people. In fact, it might be just the opposite. I think it’s time I just stop. Stop trying so hard to do what I perceive everyone thinks I should be doing–which is anything besides simply “staying at home.”
I choose this life. I actively, every day, choose this life. These kids, this husband and this home.
And in this season, I need to choose to pour into those things before I pour into you. Whoever or whatever “you” might be at any given time.
There are a million things I could do, but only a few that I will do. In this time of being a stay-at-home mom. I will stay at home. I will mom.
In this season of being a homemaker, I will make a home.
And someday when I’m ready, you’ll be sitting at my table right there alongside of me doing this thing we call life.
Blooming And Becoming 