Never ending torture of dirty dishes piling in the sink.
Lukewarm coffee, dirty dishes in the sink, toys littering the ground, a floor that needs swept, these are days collecting in my heart that I don’t despise. I laugh at their consistency but I certainly do not wish them away. At home, yet again, with a sick kid in my arms demands extra cuddles, wiping noses, and rocking to sleep in the nursery. I find it humbling that when my kids are sick, when they are most vulnerable, they want my presence, reassurance, and plan for health. I wish I kept it that simple: when my heart is sick, seek help and health. Instead I lie traumatized at pain, wanting to figure it out all myself. Little ones don’t roll like that. Their nature is to dance with dependence. My presence, assurance, and desire for wholeness brings them comfort. They know I’m on their team, ready to help, ready to hold them.
So the coffee will be reheated for the fifth time, the dishes done around midnight, and the floor slept while I wander around half asleep from sheer exhaustion. I love it though. I really do. I picked this as demanding as it may be. I’m learning how to mom, especially today.