A picture of my living room. Toys, baby gear, laundry and a Christmas tree that still needs to be put away. While in the dining room there are coloring books and crayons spread across my half scrubbed floors and a crusty peanut butter sandwich on the table from lunch.
Running a bit behind schedule per usual, but excited to be going to a newly joined mom’s group. I gave the toddler a quick bath and turned my back to pick up the crying baby, when I hear “ahh poop, poop Mama, poop”! I turn back around to a bathtub filled with poop. Poop floating everywhere!
I finally decide to work up the courage to attend weekday Mass flying solo. Hey, the toddler did great this past Sunday wanting to walk up to Communion and back. How quickly things change. She won’t budge as she reaches her arms up to be carried and her bottom lip begins to quiver. I bend down to pick her up, baby in one arm and toddler in the other. A minute later my shirt is wet, massive spit-up all over my shoulder. I left the burp rag in the pew, not that it mattered much anyways my arms were full. We must have been the site to see balancing kiddos in both arms while covered in spit-up. Humility.
Last minute nursing session and a just filled dirty diaper to change trying to get out the door for doctor appointments. Coats, hats, lost mittens found, baby bundled, carseats buckled and we are off. I glance down and notice that my once clean pants are now streaked mustard yellow with baby poop.
Motherhood, days of poop and spit-up being the norm. Being surrounded by crying babies, screaming toddlers and fighting kiddos. Learning to live with messy floors, unwashed hair and little sleep.
Realizing it is acceptable to serve frozen pizza for dinner with a side of broccoli and call it a well balanced meal. Allowing your kids to wear uniform pants to school that were dug out of the hamper that morning because we have fallen a little behind on laundry.
We are wiping tears, giving hugs and shaping souls. Embracing all of the baby coos, children’s laughter and the I love yous. Trying our best and wondering if it is good enough. Daily facing our shortcomings and relying on grace to see us through. On our knees praying and hoping they will maybe turn out okay.
Motherhood is indeed messy. It is not for the weak or faint of heart. In the business of making saints on the front lines of life and truly being sanctified in the process.